In Between
by forgottenfreedoms
Summary: "Stop deflecting, smartarse," Luke said, his voice taking on a solemn tone. "You need to talk to her and figure out your own shit first. It's not nearly as complicated as you're making it. You either love her or you don't. There's no in between..."
1. In Between

**A/N: So this little guy was going to be a one shot, but I think it might be better to break it up. Here's part one, not sure when part two will be out. Overall, don't expect anything too long winded. Maybe a couple of chapters, I haven't given it much thought. These stories always tend to write themselves longer than I intend anyways.**

**Thank you to everybody that keeps reviewing and favorite-ing my writing, I greatly, greatly, greatly appreciate. There are no words to describe how awesome you all are. Except maybe the ones I just used to say how awesome you all are.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything pertaining to Pitch Perfect. No but really, not a thing.**

**Beca POV**

I swirled my drink around in its glass, enjoying the way the amber liquid slowly slid back down the walls of its glass prison. Setting it down, I rolled my shoulders back forward and back trying to ebb some of the tension I held there. I moved to pick my glass back up.

"You planning on drinking that or are you going to keep playing with it?" A decidedly British voice pulled my vision up to where a tall, lean man was gesturing to my glass.

"You're the one who poured me a glass of whiskey at two in the afternoon on a Tuesday," I retorted.

"I'm not the one who came into a bar at two in the afternoon on a Tuesday," he replied smartly, grabbing a towel that was resting on his shoulder to run along the bar's surface.

I looked around the bar to notice I was one of three patrons. Apparently Tuesday afternoons weren't a high point at _PJ's_. And really that wasn't that shocking. It was a bar and it wasn't exactly normal to be drinking at this time on a weekday.

"Sure, but you are the one who poured me a glass of hard liquor before I even sat down," I said with a nod towards the healthy amount of Jameson in the low ball glass in my hand.

He chuckled. "My fault," he bit out sarcastically, "I'll do my best to stop being such a perfect bartender and promptly forget your drink order."

"'Wrong," I blurted out.

"What's wrong? I'm not wrong. You love Jameson. You drink it by the bottle on the weekends," he said before adding on, "Which is something you should probably stop doing. I mean that's expensive and you have the tolerance of a four hundred pound man."

"_Exaggeration_," I cut him off. "I'm also not sure if I should take that as a compliment or an insult."

"Compliment."

"I was probably going to take it that way anyway," I admitted. "For the record, that wasn't what was wrong."

"And what was wrong then, Becky?" He asked with a superior smirk.

He knew I hated that stupid name. I had corrected him not five minutes after he mistakenly heard me the first night I had come to the bar, yet here we were four years later and he was still calling me by it.

"You are not that great of a bartender, _Lukey_," I spoke, an amused look drawing to my face as he winced visibly.

He didn't seem too pleased with my emphasis of the pet name a psycho one-night stand turned pseudo stalker had coined after their first meeting. While she was definitely lacking in originality, she certainly made up for it in crazy. I've heard those two balance each other out quite well actually.

"That's where you're wrong. I'm an amazing bartender, fan-fucking-tastic actually," he stated confidently, his chest puffing out the smallest bit.

I gave a dismissive wave of my hand while taking a swig of the amber liquid. It burned a familiar path down my throat, spreading its warmth through my chest. I released the glass from my lips with a pop.

"Why exactly _are_ you here at two in the afternoon?" Luke finally asked.

"To bask in the light of your amazing, fan-fucking-tastic presence of course," I muttered sardonically into my glass.

"Nice try mate, but really?" My eyes met his and the genuine concern there was evident.

"Oh don't give me the caring bartender routine, I'm not here to drink my sorrows away if that's what you're worried about. I'm meeting Chloe, she said she had news or something," I swirled my glass before letting it rest on the counter. I looked up to see Luke leaning back against the bar with a smirk on his face. "What?"

"Nothing," he said, slapping the towel back onto his shoulder. "I was just going to ask where your better half was but you already answered it for me right there."

I rolled my eyes at him, not in the mood for this familiar line of questioning. "She's not my better half."

"Well you're certainly not the better of the two halves if that's where you were going with this," he remarked. I scowled at him.

"She's my best friend," I told him as I had told him repeatedly. "_Hey_ pretty boy, she is," I added when he rolled his eyes at me. "Besides that, she's taken."

"Yeah for like a week. And that prick treats her like shit and you know it," he spoke pointedly.

I couldn't deny that. He was a prick and he did treat her like shit. She deserved better. Looking back at each of her exes from the past I could conclude that she always deserved better.

"Bec, how long have you known Chloe?"

I gave him a puzzled look. We'd had this conversation before. He knew the answer to his own question. I reasoned he was trying to make some sort of point when he simply gestured for me to answer. "About seven years. Since my mom took a job out of state and I had to transfer schools."

I was the new and awkward girl in town, ripped from her friends and home and everything I knew. I had never been very good at making new friends or at being thrust into unfamiliar environments so I didn't have high hopes for my first day. I was going to lie low and five periods into the day I was doing a great job at just that.

Everything had been going to plan. I was slipping stealthily beneath the radar, until a bubbly redhead took the desk next to mine during English class. We were forced into partner work and after just five minutes of conversation, the other girl had informed me that we were going to be best friends. She was right. She was always right.

"You've known her seven years. You've been best friends with her for _seven_ years and this Drew prick has known her for four months. _Four_ _months_," he emphasized the words.

I scoffed, "Yeah and he's gotten a whole lot farther in _four_ _months_ than I have in seven years."

Luke was familiar with my situation. My freshman year he was simply a kind bartender who let a drunk girl stutter out her life story, but over the years we had cultivated a rather unique friendship. I came to his bar and tipped well and we spent our time ridiculing each other and calling each other out on our bullshit.

"That's because you probably friend-zoned yourself too early," he commented as though it were the clear and apparent reason.

"Friend-zoned?" I asked, pulling a face. "What is that, a euphemism?"

"Oh come off it, you know what I mean. You probably stuck yourself in that tidy little friendship circle before you even gave yourself a chance at anything outside of it," Luke proclaimed.

"What? What's to say that she's not the one who did the friend-zoning?" I asked. Luke leveled me with a knowing stare.

I shook my head at him, "She's my best friend and-"

"And you love her," Luke interjected.

I glared at him before finishing my sentence, "And I'm not going to lose my best friend because I've got a stupid little crush."

"Except it's not a stupid little crush," Luke argued. I scoffed again. "Well it's not, is it? I mean stupid little crushes don't last seven years."

When I didn't say anything he continued, "Look, you two stumbled into this bar four years ago, a fact that I'm going to ignore since I know the IDs that say you're twenty-two now are more correct than the ones you used then. You're two of our best patrons. I mean you two have pretty much singlehandedly kept this bar afloat over the years and I've been able to get to know you both over the years. I've seen the two of you interact, which means that I've seen the way you look at her and I've been around long enough to know that you don't look at her like she's some stupid little crush. You look at her like you're in love with her."

Silence fell between us. "What are you, Oprah? Did your bartender certificate come with a counseling license?"

"Stop deflecting, smartarse," Luke said, his voice taking on a solemn tone. "You need to talk to her and figure out your own shit first. It's not nearly as complicated as you're making it. You either love her or you don't. There's no in between."

I opened my mouth for another snarky retort, but closed it instead.

"What's in between?" A soft voice behind me asked, saving me from replying to Luke's statement. I turned in my seat to see my best friend happily approaching.

"Chloe," Luke greeted, a wide and mischievous smile on his face. "We were just talking about you."

I narrowed my eyes at the smirk on his pretty little face. Damn cocky Brit.

"You were, were you?" Chloe smiled, tilting her head to the side in confusion as she took a seat on the stool next to me. "You were talking about my… in between, then?" Her face scrunched adorably as she said the words.

"Erm yeah…" I replied.

"What is that, a euphemism?" She asked. I heard Luke laugh gruffly from behind the bar.

"_Actually _you could call it-" I watched a wolfish grin flash across his features. That couldn't be good.

"NO!" I nearly yelled before Luke could open his big fat mouth again. Chloe turned to me with a bemused look on her face. "We were just talking about your, erm, your…" My eyes searched frantically for a good explanation. "Your class schedule," I exclaimed, my eyes falling on her book bag. "Yeah, your class schedule and how you fit lunch in between. The classes, how you fit lunch in between your classes," I trailed off, fighting the urge to bury my face in my hands from embarrassment.

Chloe fixed me with a stare before turning her attention to Luke. He shrugged his shoulders.

"Something to drink, Red?"

"Oh, yeah. Luke can we get two glasses of your finest champagne," She trilled.

"If by finest champagne you mean the bottom shelf sludge I was supposed to pour out today, then it's yours for free," Luke said, pulling two stemmed glasses from underneath the bar.

"We'll take it," Chloe replied as though she was the highest bidder in an elitist auction.

Luke gave a nod and walked over to the liquor wall behind him.

"We're having champagne?" I asked.

"We're having champagne," she stated concisely, a sophisticated flick of her wrist.

"Is there a reason we're having champagne or are we just having a _classy_ Tipsy Tuesday for once?" I queried referencing our many not so classy Tipsy Tuesdays we had over our collegiate career. We'd never started this early on a Tuesday though.

"We're celebrating." She thanked Luke as he handed over the glasses.

"What exactly are we celebrating?" I asked, confused about what we had to celebrate. It was a Tuesday. What's there to celebrate about Tuesdays? "The week not even being half over?" I offered. "Me failing that Philosophy test earlier today?"

She quirked a brow at me. "No. We're celebrating what I found out today." She was practically bouncing out of her seat.

"Chlo, are you going to tell me or we going to keep going back and forth with these questions?"

"Way to take the fun out of the game, Bec," she said in mock disdain. But even that couldn't bring her down. She was downright giddy.

"Chloe," I said, trying to draw her attention back in.

"Oh right, well I was sitting in class just playing around on my phone because my professor is the driest lecturer in the history of lecturers. He couldn't be more boring if he tried. Anyways, I got this call. It was from an unknown number. I didn't recognize the area code, so I figured maybe it was a wrong number. But then they called back right after so I ran to the hall to answer it and… I got in," she finished, a ridiculously large smile on her face.

"You got in…?"

"I got in. I got into Johns Hopkins Medical School, Beca. I got in, I don't know how they let me in, but I got in," she exclaimed all in one breath, sipping happily at her champagne.

I felt the air whoosh out of my lungs in one solid exhale. Johns Hopkins. She had gotten into Johns Hopkins. The Johns Hopkins that was in Baltimore. The Baltimore that was in Maryland. The Maryland that would be across the country from where I would be living the next year.

"What about the med school at UCLA?" I asked. It was the school she had gotten the call from months prior. One she had been ecstatic about getting into.

"What do you mean what about UCLA, this is Johns Hopkins, Beca. Johns Hopkins," she reiterated, nearly spilling her champagne on the counter in a wide gesture. "I mean UCLA is in the top fifteen in the country but Johns Hopkins is the second best medical school in the _country_. You don't get into Johns Hopkins and not go," she said pointedly. "You just don't."

We were supposed to go to LA together. We had already put down a deposit on an apartment near campus for her and close enough to the city for me.

She told me she was going to UCLA. She told me she had only applied to Johns Hopkins on whim. It was one of her _reach_ schools like the Harvard app she had never heard any reply from. She told me that she didn't need to even get in because the interview was enough for her. An interview with the second best medical school in the country was enough for her. She had never expected to get in.

"You've got that far off look on your face. Why have you got that far off look on your face? Are you not happy about this?" I watched as she set her glass down on the counter.

"No, I'm… I'm just a little overwhelmed right now," I replied truthfully. What was I supposed to say? I felt myself growing more and more irrationally angry as time passed on. I knew what she wanted me to say.

I knew she wanted me to say that I was happy for her, that this was amazing, that it was an opportunity only a fool would pass over. But I couldn't be that person right now. I couldn't be the person that was happy for her because I felt like someone had just drop kicked me in the stomach. I felt my lips turn downward as my thoughts rushed by only one standing out.

This wasn't supposed to be happening.

"Oh and Drew got a job in Essex which is like eight miles from Baltimore and campus," she added excitedly causing my frown to deepen. "It's like everything is coming together in my life Bec, everything is finally coming together," she said while I was thinking the exact opposite.

Everything was coming together for her while to me it seemed like everything was falling apart. Baltimore and LA. That was no laughable distance. She had been my best friend for the last seven years and we had never had a distance like that between us. Baltimore.

When were in high school I had assumed that college would be our breaking point. Chloe had always been a bit of a perfectionist. Her perfect GPA in high school coupled with her title of class president and valedictorian only breached the surface of her tendency to over achieve. I had reasoned during the college application process that she would leave for some elite college that only accepted a handful of applicants. She was intelligent like that, always had her head in a book while I had mine glued to my laptop.

Before Chloe, it was music that was the glue in my life. It kept me together through my parent's separation and subsequent divorce. While Chloe loved music, it was knowledge that she was most passionate about. She was constantly learning and enjoying every moment of the learning process. It was clear to see that knowledge was her music.

I was going to Barden. That had been set in stone the minute my father had reached tenure at the college. He was not going to allow me to move to LA before I attended college. Barden had a decent variety of musical majors where I wasn't too concerned that spending four years there would be a complete waste of my time. Of course, I never informed my father of that. It was best he thought I was opposed to the whole plan than accepting of various elements.

I would be attending Barden the fall after my senior year. That was already settled. What I also thought had been settled was that Chloe would be going somewhere out of state. I knew that she belonged in the halls of Yale or studying at a quaint café along the streets of Harvard Square.

I was shocked when she invited herself over one day during our senior year to talk about Barden's housing options.

_Barden?_ I wanted to ask. _Not Brown or Stanford or Yale?_

But I didn't because my best friend wanted to go to Barden, a school I was attending and who was I to argue against that decision.

Just because I didn't argue against it, didn't mean I wasn't wondering what her motives were. First, I concluded that she didn't want to go far from home. She loved her family and I kind of loved them as well. Her parents were warm and welcoming. Her brothers were loud and obnoxious, but in an endearing way. Family was important to her, that could have been the reason.

But one day in March, her parents told us that they were moving to Arizona having finally reached a safe retirement point. She was the youngest and her older brothers were scattered throughout the country. Her family wasn't even going to be in the same state so that couldn't have been the reason.

Perhaps she was nervous about leaving the state she had called home her entire life. Maybe she was too worried to leave its borders for that long a period of time. But that didn't make any sense. This was Chloe Beale we were talking about. She never backed down from a challenge. This hypothesis was shot down as soon as she began telling me about her dream to live in California.

The only other reason I could think of was one I didn't want to be true. I was over at her house one night for an obligatory movie night. It was a tradition I celebrated only because she forced me to. It was normally just the two of us and I couldn't deny that I wanted to spend as much time with her as possible even if that did mean I had to suffer through some shitty movie.

This night was different. Her boyfriend of just under nine months was on the couch when I arrived. I did my best not to roll my eyes. Zak and I were amicable at best. We had never seen eye to eye and tolerated each other's presence solely for Chloe's sake. I was her best friend, he was her boyfriend. There was no getting around us interacting on occasion.

I did roll my eyes as I sat on the couch next to the two and saw Zak, not so stealthily, trying to sneak his hand higher and higher up her thigh repeatedly throughout the crappy horror movie Chloe had rented. She would smile politely and redirect his hand elsewhere each time. I wanted to gag. It was the words he said next that made my jaw drop.

"Next year's going to be so great, don't you think babe?" He spoke to Chloe before turning to me. "The three of us at Barden, it's going to be the tits."

The tits? It was going to be… the tits? People used that expression? Were men allowed to use that expression? Was it one of those phrases you could only say if you had them?

"Not as good as yours though babe," he loudly whispered slimily in Chloe's ear.

I couldn't stop the disgust from washing over my face. And then his hand returned to her thigh, much too high and much too quick causing her to squeak in surprise before pulling his hand away and flashing me an apologetic look. He was such a tool. So much of a tool that I almost didn't process what he had said.

He was going to Barden, probably on some half-ass football scholarship. He was the second string quarterback and Barden wasn't exactly known for its football team. But he was going to Barden.

I didn't want to think of Chloe Beale as the girl that would turn down elite schools to follow her high school boyfriend to college, but there didn't seem to be any other logical reason she would choose Barden over the stacks of acceptance letters in her room.

And when they broke up unceremoniously a couple of months into our freshman year, a part of me wanted to thank him. He was after all the reason she was at my school. He was the reason my best friend and I were at the same school.

It was that odd flare of emotion resonating from the pit of my stomach that told me maybe there was another reason I couldn't thank him. I had felt this way before, of course. And it wasn't just when she was around Zak. It had appeared before. Like when one of her boyfriends had thought PDA at a party was expected and when she went to homecoming with some jerk.

It was odd considering I had never had any problem with the guys before she dated them. In fact, I would go as far to consider a couple of them my friends prior.

It was all so much easier to compartmentalize when I thought she was straight. If she was straight then this was fine. I could have a straight girl crush on my best friend. That was fine.

And it was fine until she stormed into my dorm room freshman year to tell me about a date she had been on. It wasn't until halfway through the story that I recognized the pronouns to be definitively feminine. It wasn't until then that I realized she had been on a date with a girl, that she was shockingly nonplussed about being on a date with a girl. It wasn't until then that I realized I may have been grossly downplaying what I had only considered to be a straight girl crush until that point.

It was a harsh realization that I came to. I couldn't pinpoint the exact origin of these feelings, nor the exact moment that any of it had happened. Yet somewhere among the seven years that we had been friends, I had fallen in love with Chloe Beale.

One day I was superior and completely above all clichés, the next day I realized I was living the biggest one possible. I had fallen in love with my best friend, my not as straight as I originally thought best friend but my best friend nonetheless.

I had no idea how I had let it happen. I wasn't even sure it was part of my conscious control. It didn't help matters that every time I thought about it I could practically see a ten year old version of myself rolling her eyes at the mess I had gotten myself into. I wasn't supposed to be this girl. The girl who was in some situation only experienced in a crappy rom-com.

It made me wonder how long the glaringly obvious had been staring me straight in the face before I acknowledged it. I thought that maybe if I had noticed just a couple of months earlier, then maybe it wouldn't be quite as bad. But I knew that wasn't true. It didn't matter when I finally let myself accept the truth, it didn't change any part of the situation at all.

I knew I couldn't act on it. No, I couldn't tell her now for many of the same reasons I couldn't tell her then.

She was in a relationship. And I wasn't one to meddle in relationships. My father's cheating had destructed my family from the wobbly base it once stood on. I wasn't a cheater and I certainly wouldn't be the other woman, not that that was even a blip on the radar considering I never stood a chance.

She was much too good for me. While I preferred to spend my evenings locked in my room with my laptop and a good pair of headphones, she was involved in practically every possible group on campus while somehow maintaining a near perfect GPA. She had gotten into Johns Hopkins for crying out loud.

She was completely out of my league on the intellectual as well as physical level. It wasn't that I had some overwhelmingly teenager complex about my body but I was more than aware that everything I lacked she had in tenfold.

She had legs that made gay men wish they were straight and made straight girls wish they were gay. She had a smile that had been the downfall of so many over the years. She was witty, intelligent and had curves in each and every place that women were meant to. Perhaps her most attractive quality was that she was completely oblivious to the effect she had on people.

She presented me with an unfair standard for comparison, one of the many reasons I had barely even tried to date in my life. Nothing would come close to Chloe Beale and I wasn't sure that I even wanted it to.

So I accepted it as it was. She was my best friend and I loved her. She was my constant and I was hers. I wasn't going to lose my constant because I couldn't keep my mouth shut.

Maybe that's why this hurt so much. I had never truly faced the possibility of her living anywhere but near where I was. And now she was going to Baltimore and her asshat boyfriend of three months was going to be there as well.

"Are you at least going to pretend to be happy for me?" Her voice shook me from my thoughts.

I didn't know what to say. I could lie to her, but she would see right through that.

"It's a little hard to be happy for someone when you realize you've got to cover both parts of a rent you were barely going to be able to pay half of," I mumbled, the filter between my brain and my mouth apparently on permanent hiatus.

"Well, I'll help you find a roommate. Or if that doesn't work, I'll still pay my half. It will be fine," she said logically but I wasn't ready for any logic. My best friend was going to be living on the other side of the country.

"No it won't be, Chloe," I said, watching the smile melt off her face. "Have you even thought about this? Have you even tried to think it through? You're turning down UCLA to what? Follow your boyfriend of three months to Baltimore? Because that worked out so great for college didn't it?" I spat out acerbically.

She recoiled as though I had physically rather than verbally assaulted her.

"What's going on with you?" She asked in a voice that did nothing to hide her shock.

"Nothing," I laughed bitterly. "Nothing's going on with me Chloe, my best friend just has her head so far up her ass that she can't realize that her decisions affect more people than herself. If you took half a step back you'd realize exactly how completely selfish you're being-"

"Selfish? I'm being selfish?" She turned to me, her shock now replaced with anger. I had struck a chord and I knew it. I had struck a chord with a statement that wasn't even slightly true. Chloe Beale had never been selfish a day in her life.

When her family was having financial problems, she quietly quit her expensive piano lessons telling her mom that she wasn't interested in playing anymore even though it couldn't have been farther from the truth. She was more selfless than she had ever been selfish.

"I think if there is one time in my life that I'm allowed to be selfish it's when I'm making a decision that's about where _I_ go to med school. You're the one that's prepared to leave everybody behind for LA."

I blanched. _Everybody but you_, I wanted to tell her_, I wasn't going to be leaving you_. _You were supposed to be coming with me, _I wanted to say.

Instead I reared back saying, "That's not even remotely the same thing!"

"Really, how is it different?" Her eyebrow quirked up as she crossed her arms in front of her chest.

"It just… " I struggled for words, "It is. It's completely different. Your decision is completely out of your own self-interest-"

"And yours is to what, cure world hunger? You're moving to LA to DJ, not exactly saving the world there," she spat back at me. My eyes widened at the venom in her tone or perhaps because I knew that this was the first time she had ever made a negative comment about my aspirations. "If anybody here is selfish, it's you. I can't believe you right now."

I shook my head at her. Seven years of friendship and we had never had an argument quite like this one. I could feel it slowly spinning out of my control but did nothing to reel it back in. "I think I'm entitled to be a little selfish."

"Oh you are, are you?" She asked, appraising me judgmentally. "And why's that?"

"Someone's got to look out for me, god knows no one else will."

"I don't know what you want from me. If you want to be some apathetic, woe-is-me, half-ass DJ then so be it. And I'm sorry this isn't working perfectly into Beca Mitchell's world but you should know this is big for me. You should _know_ that this is a big deal for me and you're supposed to be happy for me."

She gave me a disbelieving look before continuing, "You're supposed to be excited for me because that's what best friends do. They don't take your past relationship mistakes and shove them down your throat when they're supposed to be supportive. Come find me when you can do that for me. Until then," she paused, looking me over again. "Just leave me the hell alone."

She stood abruptly, knocking her stool back during the process. She didn't give it a second look as she glared at me. She opened her mouth to say something, but closed it, shaking her head. I watched as she walked away, wanting to stop her and still not entirely positive why I said what I had said.

The door slammed shut signifying her departure. I slammed the whiskey in front of me in one shaky gulp before dropping my face to the bar's surface.

"Well that went well," Luke commented dryly above me. I grunted into the smooth wood surface pressed against my face. "Your people skills are rubbish. I told you to talk to her, not insult her."

She was my best friend. I was in love with her and she was moving to Baltimore. I knew that another drink wasn't going to change any of that but maybe it could help me forget for a while. If Luke made it strong enough maybe it could make me forget I was drinking alone at two on a Tuesday afternoon, the only other men in the bar oddly resembling Santa Claus.

I didn't bother lifting my face from the counter, telling Luke to, "Shut it and pour me another drink."

**A/N: There you have it, part one of some indefinably long story. Probably sticking this one out with Beca POV unless a particularly good plot shift takes me down the path of alternating POVs. Let me know what you think (or didn't think) as you read the chapter. Thoughts on Luke, favorite quotes, bad puns (no seriously I'm still waiting for a corny joke here), and any other thoughts are appreciated and welcome!**

**Until next time…**


	2. Crash and Burn

**A/N: Hey folks! Thank you very much for giving this a read and special thanks to everybody that was kind enough to leave a review. I absolutely love hearing what you all think, so thanks for that. Well, here's part II. Enjoy!**

**Beca POV**

Music echoed about the room, trapped in each corner by the walls surrounding it. There was nothing more reassuring to me than being completely surrounded by music. It was like a warm blanket draped over my shoulders on the coldest night of winter. Sure, I could survive without it but I definitely wouldn't be comfortable.

Everyone had that something in their life that just made sense. Everything could be falling to pieces around them but as long as they had that something, it didn't matter. Music had always been that something to me and I often sought the comfort of lying peacefully within its bounds.

It was just after 3 AM on a Friday night, well now a Saturday morning. I was carefully sorting through a flashdrive of new music to play for the insomniacs who could possibly still be awake.

WBUJ was a second home to me. It was another place for me to connect to music. I had worked my way through the ranks from lowly CD and record stacker to station manager. The position had its perks, including having full access to new releases from local artists like the ones on the flashdrive currently flagged out of the side of my laptop.

I also was in charge of allotting air time for the station's employees each week. I made a point to give freshmen the opportunity to actually enter the booth, a privilege I was denied until I was a sophomore.

I had gotten a call from Taylor, a freshman with a promising ear for music, nearly five hours ago saying he couldn't make it in because of a rather bad bout of the stomach flu.

I rationalized that I didn't want him spreading his illness throughout the station when in reality I jumped at the opportunity to work for an entirely different reason. I wasn't in the mood to go out. I wasn't in the mood to put any effort into my appearance. I wasn't in the mood to run into anyone I knew. Besides, I reasoned, I had drank plenty enough for the weekend on Tuesday.

The entire night was one whiskey induced blur. I remember Luke practically carrying me to a cab at a time that surely must have been later than the eight PM a glance at my phone had told me. I remember the taxi driver being endlessly entertained by my drunken ramblings. I remember stumbling into my single and face planting into my bed only to wake the next morning for my nine o'clock lecture with a raging headache and the inability to fully open my eyes. Hangovers were a bitch like that.

I tottered through my morning classes, only attending because at this point in my educational pursuit I wasn't above taking each and every freebie point. Attendance points were the mother of all gimme points and who was I to turn them down. Since they were gen ed credits I had put off until senior year, I ended up napping in the back row as soon as roll was called.

Other than classes, I admittedly had very little human contact all week. I wasn't interested in putting some happy face on for everyone and I definitely wasn't interested in explaining why I was upset to anyone. Chloe and I shared many of the same close friends, the majority of which were far too nosey for their own good. That's not to say the select few I had mentioned it to weren't just as intrusive.

Not even halfway through Wednesday, Luke began pestering me about Chloe. I spent the better part of the day ignoring his outrageous number of texts. I finally reached a breaking point when he began texting me one word at a time. I sent a short text back not so kindly informing him that Chloe and I had already spoke.

But we hadn't. I couldn't bring myself to make the march to her apartment and she hadn't come anywhere near the single dorm room my father insisted I live in as part of the college experience. I had no idea what I would even say to her. There was no way of properly explaining my reaction without also exposing my feelings for her. She was my best friend, if anyone could see right through me it was her.

Picking up the shift was another way for me to avoid her, which was how I spent most of the remainder of my week. I had a decent enough knowledge of her schedule to know where not to be. I kept my head down when I was on campus, only leaving my room to attend the necessary classes and I locked myself up in the station whenever possible.

Even if I was physically avoiding her there was no way for me to avoid the thought of her. I wondered if she had cooled down since our last talk. I wondered if she was still mad at me. I wondered if she would let this slip, I was hoping she would let this minor indiscretion slip and that our friendship would be fine when she left for Baltimore.

As much as it hurt not to have her, it hurt even more to not have her in my life.

A pounding startled me from my thoughts. It was late. Who would be at the door this late? I glanced surreptitiously around the station. Nothing seemed to be out of place however that didn't mean this wasn't the beginning to an episode of _The Twilight Zone_. This very well could be the beginning of a short, short end. My limited knowledge of B-list horror movies told me as much.

The harsh knocking drew me back to the present. I jumped a little at the noise, clutching my heart and reaching desperately for my standard issue BU rape whistle. I let it rest between my lips and grabbed a mop from the nearby closet.

A silence fell over the station, the only noise being emitted from the booth where my playlist continued on.

Maybe they had left. Maybe they had accomplished what they wanted to. If scaring the shit out of whoever was working the night shift was their objective, then well done. I'd start the slow clap they deserved once they were off the premises. Maybe they already were.

But no, the windows almost shook at the force of the knocking this time. I walked anxiously toward the door, mop in hand. The shades didn't block the outline of a large figure on the other side of the window on the door.

Taking a deep breath in, my heart racing, I flung the door open ready to attack whoever was on the other side of it before they could attack me.

"You're an idiot," was announced before I could even move. I looked to find the owner of the voice with his arms crossed in front of his chest, amusement dancing in his eyes.

"Jesus, Luke," I exclaimed, taking the BU rape whistle out of my mouth, "You can't just go around banging on doors at this time of night. You're lucky I realized it was you before I disfigured you."

He gave me an unimpressed look, his eyes surveying the items in my hand. "Oh yes, good for me you recognized me before you, what?" His hand trailed up to where I held the whistle. "Andy Griffith'ed me to death and then mopped up the mess?"

"If you think your knowledge of old American sitcoms is somehow going make you less conspicuous here, you're sadly mistaken. Your accent coupled with that whole metro European look you've got going on is a dead giveaway that you're a foreigner," I bounced back, trying to calm my beating heart. "And you don't even want to know what I was going to do with this mop."

"Well pardon me for interrupting," he waggled his eyebrows up and down, his lips forming into his trademark cocky smirk. "Do continue," he said with a wink.

"Oh, so you like to watch?" I teased back with a small smile, "Kinky."

He laughed, his broad shoulders shaking with the action before he pushed past me into the studio.

"Hey!" I called after him, "Who says you can be in here?"

"Oi, relax. I know the station manager," Luke said dismissively, sorting through the new release section of the studio.

"I'm the station manager," I reminded him.

He didn't look up from the CD in his hand while replying, "Yeah, and I know you."

I let it rest, knowing nothing I said would get me far. I looked back at the clock.

_3:11 AM_

I walked over to where he was standing. "Shouldn't you be closing the bar?"

"Nope, Colt is covering for me. I told him I had something important to do," he muttered distractedly placing the CD down before picking another one up.

"And that important thing was…?" I prompted while he continued to sort through the pile I had organized earlier that night. He wasn't even putting them back in order. I knew without a doubt he was doing that on purpose. Jerk.

"Oh right," he said turning on his heel to face me. He took in an exaggerated breath, releasing it as he said, "You're an idiot."

I threw my hands up. Unbelievable. I needed new friends. Preferably ones who had better things to do at 3 AM than insult me.

"You came here at 3 in the morning to tell me I'm an idiot?" He nodded, his usual calm façade slipping as he looked thoroughly pleased with himself. "You do know we live in a digital world where mobile phones and computers exist, right? You could have called me or texted me or facebooked me or even tweeted at me, but you chose to come here to tell me in person instead?"

"Pretty much," he shrugged, his attention drifting toward the booth I was supposed to be working in. He took two giant steps towards it. I smoothly shifted to cut him off. He looked down at me, "Why are you working this shift anyway? Don't you normally stick some _lucky_ freshman with it?"

I squared my shoulders to where he stood. "I do, but that lucky freshman not so luckily came down with flu earlier today and called in sick."

"That's unfortunate," he commented matter-of-factly, faking a move to his right and then sweeping past my left to enter the booth. I exhaled before following him hoping he wasn't messing things up in there.

Thankfully he was seated on the top of a table in the corner of the room far away from any radio equipment.

I sunk back into the office chair in the broadcast corner. "How'd you even know I was here?"

He gestured vaguely to the equipment in front of me. "Kind of spoils the mystery of your whereabouts."

"Is there a reason you came here to call me an idiot or was it just a passing thought you felt obligated to share?" I asked effectively changing the subject.

"Right. Funniest thing happened to me at shift tonight. There I was pouring drinks, girls were throwing themselves at me left and right like always," I made a fake gagging noise. He smirked at me and continued, "And then this girl comes in. She's one of our regulars and after some tiptoeing around the subject she asks me how you were doing. I was a little confused, see, since you had told me you talked to her earlier this week. But no, she says she hasn't seen or talked to you all week. Not so much as a text or a drunken voicemail. Strange, huh?"

"Incredibly strange," I said, turning my chair back to him. "Although I'm not sure how you expected me to call some random girl I don't even know."

I avoided the topic knowing very well what girl he was referring to.

"You still haven't spoken to Chloe," he said, dropping all pretenses as he brought up the topic of my avoidance.

"I'll have you know drunk me has long since learned to put the phone down before anyone gets hurt," I stated wryly.

"And you've been drunk all week then?" He countered.

I paused a minute before roughly nodding my head, "Perhaps… Perhaps I have been."

"You're full of shit, but that's not what I'm worried about," Luke remarked. "What I am worried about it the fact that you haven't spoken to your best mate all week and just spent your Friday night in this, no offense, dingy studio."

I ran a hand through my hair, leaning back in my chair in frustration, "What do you want to know, Luke? You were there. She told me to leave her the hell alone so I've been leaving her the hell alone."

"You should be apologizing."

"Why should I be apologizing? She slammed me with some cheap shot insults as well. She should be apologizing to _me_," I argued, well aware that my argument had little grounds to stand on.

"She came to share exciting news with you and you called her self-involved and selfish, two traits no one can rightfully attribute to Chloe Beale," he fixed me with a pointed stare. "Whatever she said you probably deserved."

He wasn't wrong.

"Whatever," I mumbled. "I can go a week without talking to Chloe and the world won't end."

"Really? When's the last time that's ever happened?" He asked and I racked my brain for an answer even though I knew I wouldn't find one. "You two going a week without talking is practically a sure sign of the apocalypse."

I tried another route. "Have you ever thought that maybe my life doesn't revolve around Chloe? That maybe I'm trying to make new friends?"

He snorted, although I wasn't sure at what part. I turned my chair to glare at him. He held his hands up defensively, "Sorry, but you're not the friendly type."

I relaxed, bringing a knee up tight to my chest and tucking my chin onto where it rest in front of me. "Well sorry if that's not the answer you wanted, that's what I've been doing. See, I've recently been told that I'm going to LA by myself meaning I've got to learn to socialize without a buffer."

"I didn't know buffers came in bubbly red haired packages," he smartly replied. "Bubbly red haired packages you can't wait to get inside."

"Oh, go fuck yourself," I said in jest, "You know if you were a half decent friend you'd be helping me with this."

"What do you want me to do?" He asked, "Set up a time for you and the other kids to go to the zoo together?"

I rolled my eyes at him, "Well it'd certainly help if you could be the tiniest bit supportive of me here."

"I'm supportive," he argued indignantly. "I've been supportively telling you you're a bloody idiot for the past ten minutes."

I shot him a disbelieving look, "Does supportive have another meaning in Scotland or something?"

He shrugged, "Wouldn't know. I'm from England."

I scowled at him.

"If you want better social skills then you need to actually be out there in society, not locked in your dorm room or here at the station," he started, finally beginning to give me reasonable advice.

"Alright Sensei, and what is your master plan for my immersion into society?"

He scratched his stubble covered chin introspectively before enlightenment flashed across his features. "A date," he told me.

"Luke, I thought we already established this," I commented dryly, "I don't like dick. You and I are just never going to happen."

"That's not what I was saying," he said making a face, "We've got a new waitress at the bar, she's been asking about the girl behind the mixes we play."

"And that means she's interested?" I scoffed. People were allowed to like my music without wanting to get in my pants. I didn't even know the girl. "I mean is she even gay?"

"She shot me down," he said with a shrug as though that explained it all.

"That doesn't mean she's gay," I contended, my lips beginning to quirk up into a smirk, "It means she has eyes."

He rolled his eyes at me, telling me, "Her ex came in last month. Her ex that was very much a girl which means she could be gay. Or at least bi with bad taste."

"You're really selling her to me, Luke," I muttered sarcastically, tapping my fingers along my jeans to a beat in my head.

"I'm not saying she has bad taste all around. In fact her ex was well fit, I'm just saying she turned me down. _Me_," he said, lifting the hem of his shirt up a little to show his well-defined abs.

"That's bad taste?" I wrenched his shirt back down, covering his prized possessions, "If anything I'd consider that to be good taste."

He ignored my comment entirely, "So you'll do it?"

"I don't know Luke," I said sighing.

"I know you're not exactly the relationship type but you could do with some fun. It's not as though you could get into anything too serious with the limited time before you leave," Luke reasoned.

He was right. I wasn't exactly the relationship type considering I had never been in a relationship. I wish I could say it was for lack of opportunity but in reality every time I got anywhere near that point the thought of Chloe pushed it all aside. I didn't think it was fair for me to date a girl who was completely committed to the relationship when I was in love with someone else. It was all very soap opera-esque and I had never felt comfortable dwelling on it. Instead I focused on the fact that I felt more natural when I was single.

I contemplated Luke's offer. There wasn't any tangible net holding me back from going on a date. No part of my subconscious was opposed to a simple date. Maybe it would be enough to get Luke to back off with all of the Chloe stuff. I knew he cared, but it was my friendship and the only decision on the situation that mattered was my own.

Luke waved a hand in front of my face, drawing my attention back up, "You want to meet new people. Shelby's new people."

"Fine," I conceded, ignoring Luke's look of triumph at my reply. "On one condition."

"And what condition is that, Becky?"

"You drop the Chloe thing. I do this and you stop bothering me with it all."

His brow furrowed as he considered it. He slowly offered his hand to me, "Deal." I smiled and went to shake his hand but he pulled it away before I could. "If you promise me something."

"Promise me you'll at least give Shelby a chance."

I nodded my head concisely. Grabbing my hand he shook it quickly.

"I'm going to completely blow this," I breathed out, leaning into the backrest of the chair.

"That's why we're doubling," he informed me.

"We are?" I asked, surprised he was willing to be helpful for once.

He nodded, slapping a hand down on the table, "'Course. The hell if I'm missing you crash and burn."

I repeat: I needed new friends.

XXXXX

Luke chose Tuesday night for the date. When I tried to argue that nobody went on dates on Tuesdays he told me no one got shitfaced on Tuesday afternoons either and that I was going to be there whether I liked it or not. It hardly left me much choice in the matter.

I had spent most of Saturday with my thumb hovering over the call icon next to Chloe's name. I had even started and promptly deleted several texts to her. My every attempt was thwarted however by the fact that I didn't even know where to start. I contemplated, only briefly, just telling her.

I thought maybe she wouldn't pick up my call and I could just leave a voicemail, something like _Hey Chloe, sorry I was an ass earlier. I'm just upset you're going to be on the other side of the country. Oh and by the way, I'm completely in love with you. Call me if you want to get margaritas this week! _

I even considered texting her it. Just writing a text telling her _sorry about last week. I didn't mean to call you selfish. Anyways, hope to see you soon. TTYL, LYL_

But then again, I had never really been keen on text speak nor did I ever want to be caught actually using it. I didn't know where to start with any of this and I wasn't sure if I even could.

So we weren't talking right now, that would fade. It had in the past when we had gotten into tiny squabbles throughout our friendship. This would pass too, I thought before remembering the look of anger on her face as she stormed out of the bar.

Of course, she had never been that upset during one of our squabbles before.

I thought better than to dwell on it, staring my reflection down in the mirror. I was wearing a pair of skinny jeans and a nice top. I had even attempted to brush out my hair. There was no way Luke could tell me I wasn't trying.

He was set to pick me up any minute now. I wasn't sure why I was nervous. I shouldn't have had anything to be nervous about. This was nothing, just a date to get Luke to back off about Chloe. If it didn't work out then it didn't work out. Luke would give me crap about it forever but no one else would need to know it even happened.

It doesn't even matter. This wouldn't even matter. This date was nothing. It was something to get my mind off Chloe.

Chloe who I wouldn't mind going on whatever lame double date Luke had set up with. Chloe who was probably home with Drew right now planning their future together in Baltimore. Chloe who probably hadn't thought about me once since we last saw each other. Chloe who was moving to Baltimore. Chloe who was too good for LA and much too good for me.

_I will never have Chloe_, I recited in my mind, trying to desperately to get myself to let go of my last remaining shred of hope. That shred of hope that Chloe might feel even half of what I felt for her. That shred that nearly burst when I discovered she wasn't straight. That shred that inflated infinitely each time she was single again and that same shred that tore me to pieces every time she told me about someone new. That shred that would be the death of me if I didn't do this, if I didn't go on this date.

Luke came shortly later and we drove quietly to the restaurant. He told me that the girls were going to meet us there since they both conveniently lived in the same building.

"They beat us here," he commented, eyes on the entrance I couldn't see when we pulled into a parking spot.

He smiled before exiting the car. I popped my door open and stepped out watching as Luke gave a wave toward the entrance. I followed his eye line to find two women outside of the double doors.

_You have got to be fucking kidding me._

I moved immediately to get back inside the car. I only got one knee into the vehicle when Luke popped his head back into the car, "What are you doing?"

"Aubrey?!" I exclaimed. He knelt down on the driver's seat, ducking his head inside, "You're dating _Aubrey_! You're bringing me on a double date that I'm probably going to completely ruin and you brought Aubrey with to watch? You're _sick_! I'm not going."

Aubrey Posen hated me. There really wasn't much else to say. She and Chloe were randomly assigned to be roommates freshman year and had been roommates since then. She was one of Chloe's best friends other than me. And, for whatever reason, she hated everything about me, even the ground I walked on and the ground I walked on certainly didn't deserve it. Come to think of it, neither did I. Given recent events, something told me her opinion on me probably hadn't changed in the past week...

"Yes, you are—"

"_No_, I'm not-"

"Beca," he said firmly, meeting my eyes over the center console.

"Luke," I replied.

"Get out of the car," he calmly ordered.

"Nope," I shook my head vehemently.

"She's your best mate's flatmate. You two have known each other long enough to be civil. She's not here to make fun of you."

I scoffed, "Have you asked her that yet? She's probably here to tape the whole thing and sell it to some tabloid when my career starts. She's the devil. Or at very least one of his minions."

"You're being insane," he retorted shortly.

"How is it insane to avoid someone that's hated you since the day you were born? That's just Darwinism…. I think?" That was the lecture I had slept through last Wednesday. The only thing I was certain of was that Biology, even at the you-have-to-take-it-to-graduate-so-it's-basic level, was not my niche.

"That's ridiculous," he declared, "She hasn't even known you since you were born. Now come on, your date is waiting. Are you going to do this or not?"

"Not."

He narrowed his eyes, "You promised me you'd give Shelby a chance."

"That was before I realized I'd have to be giving her the chance while dining with Satan's spawn!"

He let out a deep breath through his nostrils. "Don't make me make you get out of this car," he threatened.

"Do it, you won't," I egged him on, an eyebrow arched in challenge.

Silence filled the car, neither of us moving. Then he reached across and placed a hand on my forehead, pushing against it. He was trying to push me out of the car. I didn't think he was actually going to do it.

I struggled against him, putting all my weight into staying put. I reached out for the parking break and held on desperately.

When I barely budged, I taunted him, "You've been focusing on the glamour muscles instead of working the real ones again, Luke."

His free hand slapped lightly at my fingers where they were white knuckled.

"I don't know how you do things in England but here in America, you can't hit girls," I accosted.

"Oh please, I'm barely touching you," he said. I wanted to argue that point when his hand pushed harder against my forehead. "Now. Just. Let. Go," he grunted as he struggled to get my hand off the brake. I wasn't moving anywhere.

_"Uh-uh,"_ I said, stubbornly staying in place.

His eyes drifted back to the entrance, widening as his hold loosened.

"Don't even try it," I told him knowing very well what he was trying to do. He was trying to distract me.

"I'm not trying anything, I had no idea she was going to be here," he said soberly, his eyes still over my shoulder. "Honestly," he asserted and I furrowed my brow. Was he being serious? Who was here? It couldn't possibly be… I turned rapidly in my seat toward the entrance not, my view blocked by the large truck in the spot next to us.

I frowned, my grip on the parking break slipping. Luke took advantage of my lag in attention and gave me a light shove. I flew backwards without anything to anchor me in place. I fell directly on my ass and whimpered childishly at the sharp sting that the fall emitted.

Luke walked over triumphantly to my side of the car, slamming the door shut and hitting the lock button on his key chain. I glared at him, standing up and dusting the dirt off my jeans. We walked over toward where Aubrey and Shelby stood oblivious to what had just transpired.

I lagged back, watching Luke greet Aubrey with smile and a kiss on the cheek. She smiled widely up at him before turning her eyes on me. The smile dropped from her lips immediately.

"Aubrey. Great to see you, how are the kids? How about them Braves? The weather's been lovely," I said bringing every possible small talk opener I could think of to the surface.

"Oh shut it, Mitchell," she bit out. Her foot began tapping in place as she glared at me so intensely I was surprised I hadn't burst into flames yet.

"Well then," I sent Luke a message of _I told you so_.

He shook his head at me before saying, "Oh right, Shelby this is Beca. Beca this is Shelby. Shall we?" Then he walked off. He was the least helpful human being on the planet.

I sighed, wanting nothing more than to head back to my room and spend the evening mixing or even doing homework seemed like a better option at this point. I looked over to where Shelby stood with a look on her face that told me she was having similar thoughts. By this point I think it'd be safe to conclude Tuesdays were _not_ my day.

**A/N: There you have it, part II. No Chloe in it, which a lot of you are probably upset at me for but I do promise she will be around next chapter. Small reminder that Bechloe is the end game however I'm a fan of buildup. Can't say for certain when I'll have the next one up, because I'm being hit with a second wave of tests before spring break here but I won't leave you all hanging around too long. **

**Until then, go ahead and scroll down to that neat little box and write your thoughts on the chapter, the story, the blizzard that's currently covering the Midwest and soon the East coast in snow, or anything else you can think of.**

**Until next time…**


	3. All Along

**A/N: Hey all! Got a little bit of a longer chapter here for you all. Thanks for everyone that's been reviewing. Basically I love you all. Special thanks for the novel length review Sora Yagami posted, greatly appreciated and hopefully this chapter answers some of your questions. Moving on… here's the next chapter.**

**Beca POV**

I twirled my spoon around on the table top, reveling in the way it caught the dim light in the restaurant. My leg was bouncing up in perpetual motion at my side.

It was official: I was incapable of stopping my fidgeting. I had been fidgeting all night and it shouldn't have been surprising. The dinner had gone as I suspected in that it had all been terribly awkward and Aubrey had dedicated the entire time since we walked through the door to trying to murder me with her eyes.

Although I had quite possibly the most basic level of scientific knowledge possible for a college senior, I still was certain that there was no way she could actually accomplish what she was trying. It didn't stop me from flinching every now and then when I looked up and noticed she was still doing it.

Luke did his best to make conversation but we weren't giving him much to work with. Shelby politely answered his questions, which was more than could be said for Aubrey who had been turning any and every subject brought up into an insult about some facet of my life. It was a real talent, highly marketable I'm sure.

Her snide remarks had been getting more direct by the minute and I was one more comment away from blowing up when Luke suggested to Aubrey that they take a walk and look at the new patio the restaurant had added on. The smirk on his face made me doubt that there was actually a patio out back. He sent an exaggerated wink in my direction that caused me to roll my eyes.

Did he honestly think this was going well? I focused my vision on the table in front of me, noticing Shelby check her phone for what must have been the umpteenth time that night.

She was attractive, there was no denying that. She stood several inches taller than me with an athletic build that properly denoted one of her favorite hobbies. Luke had casually brought up the fact that Shelby was running a marathon in a couple of months. Not only was she running one marathon, it was her third one. Luke even suggested that the two of us should go running sometime because when you think Beca Mitchell you think marathoner.

Sure, I was relatively in shape, dabbling in exercise on an irregular schedule that mostly revolved around whenever Chloe dragged me to the gym with her. That, by no means, meant that I was prepared to go for a light five mile jog with a girl who looked she used five miles as a warm up.

What little she did talk, it was clear to see she was intelligent. And smart. And funny in an overly sarcastic and direct way that was similar to my own humor . And I wanted to be attracted to her. I really did. I wanted to feel a spark. I wanted to feel something right away, but I didn't. I didn't feel any of the palpable connection I felt with Chloe after five minutes of sitting with her in that English class.

I knew it wasn't fair to make comparisons. But I couldn't help it.

She had a pretty smile, but her eyes didn't light up the way Chloe's did when she let a smile stretch across her face.

She was a brunette, her hair curled naturally at its ends. But I was partial to redheads.

Her eyes were a deep and ethereal green and I shouldn't have looked into them and wished they were a deep and somehow warm, icy blue.

She didn't get those little wrinkles around her eyes when she laughed.

She didn't slide my plate across the table and take forkful when I mentioned it was really good. She didn't send me a smile afterwards that made me completely forget what I had been angry about.

It was only one date. I was already struggling and it was only one date, a date whose features I hardly had enough time to analyze before I was making comparisons.

I sighed deeply, reaching for my water glass and bringing it to my lips.

"So," Shelby spoke the word out slowly as though she were testing the waters. "How long have you been in love with Aubrey?"

I choked on my water a little, breaking out into a coughing fit trying to breathe again. When I finally regained some sense of composure I sputtered out, "You think I'm into Aubrey?!"

She shrugged calmly, "Well Luke kind of told me you were hung up on someone and…"

"You assumed it was Aubrey," I surmised, wiping my chin clean of the water that had spilled there.

Shelby nodded. "Well yeah. That's the only reason I can think of that she's been targeting you all night. She seems like the type where anger and sexual tension go hand in hand."

"Yuck," I shuddered, not willing to think of how Aubrey dealt with her sexual tension. "She hates my guts. That tension you're feeling, it's from her forcing herself not to kill me in a place with so many witnesses."

"Oh," she responded, playing with the base of her water glass. "Then who?"

"Who, what?" I asked, puzzled as to what she was asking.

"If it's not Aubrey, then who?" She queried and then thought better of it, "You don't have to tell me."

"Her roommate," I said, not entirely sure why I was sharing this with a relative stranger, a relative stranger I was currently on a date with. "Her roommate's my best friend from high school."

"Ahh," Shelby mused, repositioning so her torso was blocked toward me. "Straight girl crush?" She asked, shooting me a knowing glance.

I shook my head, "No, I mean I thought she was for a while. But she's dated girls on and off since we started college. So she's obviously not opposed to it."

"So she's your best friend," I nodded, "Meaning you two get along. She's dated women before," I nodded again. "Meaning she's not straight. And you haven't done anything why?" She questioned.

"It's not that simple," I quipped back, sick of everyone thinking it was black and white. There were gray areas. In fact, the whole thing was a gray area.

"Okay, if you think it's that complicated, then explain it to me," she insisted. My eyes flashed to her trying to decide if she was actually this crazy. Why would she want to hear this?

"Now I know I haven't been on a date in a while but I'm going to go out on a limb here and say this isn't exactly first date protocol," I commented wryly.

"Let's be honest here, nothing about this date has been per protocol," she leveled with me. "The only reason I even came out was to get Luke stop bugging me about my ex. I thought that maybe if I went out with you he'd drop it."

_That sounded familiar… except for the part of Chloe being my ex._

When I thought about it, she was right. The whole date had been a bust. I was glad to see I wasn't the only one thinking it.

"How about this? You tell me about…" She trailed off, gesturing for me to fill in the blank.

"Chloe," I supplied, feeling oddly lighter at the possibility of talking about the subject I had been avoiding all week.

"You tell me about Chloe, I listen and give you advice from the view of an uninvolved third party and then I make you suffer through twenty minutes of me talking about my commitment-phobic ex. That way we're equally unimpressed with each other's lives."

I let out a short laugh, pondering her offer.

A new perspective. A perspective that wasn't going to meddle or set me up on awkward double dates. It didn't seem like too bad of an idea. I found myself nodding.

"I'm not sure where to start," I admitted, having never actually talked about all of this before. Luke had come to his own conclusion about Chloe and I long before I had ever told him our back story. It was odd, sitting at a table with some girl I had just met and trying to explain what Chloe meant to me.

Shelby gave me a reassuring nod even through my confusion.

What did Chloe mean to me? How could I even properly convey her importance to me? Chloe was like air, present even in the moments you didn't recognize it. She was like the first ray of sunlight shining through your window each morning. She turned me into a giant ball of mush and I hated it, but then again I didn't because she was like…

"Music," I nearly whispered the word. Chloe was like music. Maybe I couldn't talk about what she meant to me but I could talk about music.

"Growing up, my parents fought a lot. They would scream and yell and I would barricade myself in my bedroom with my father's old record player. I'd turn it up until I couldn't hear any of the yelling, until I couldn't hear anything but the rich, fluid music floating out of the player. I would sit there for hours, my back resting against the legs of the table that held the player with a blanket pulled up to my chest.

"Music's always been that for me. It's always felt like regardless of how superfluous I felt in life, when I picked up a guitar or made a new mix that I was important. That somehow with music I could make a difference. And music was always there for me. I can't describe it."

I felt my lips turning up at their corners, "There's this… this feeling you get when you've been working on a mix for days and you finally find the right way to layer the songs together."

Catching my stride, I continued to ramble, "It's like… it's like something clicks and suddenly it doesn't matter that you almost deleted the whole thing twenty times in the last few days. And even if you're the only one to hear it, it doesn't matter because you did it. You staked out your mark on the musical world and no matter how inconsequential you've felt before, nothing can beat that feeling."

I harbored a breath, cherishing the way my heart ran rampant at just the thought.

"You see, music's that for me. It gave me a reason to wake up every morning and face the world. It's like that first breath of air on a cold morning, it's… it's," I stumbled over my words. Shelby was giving me a supportive nod, her attention still on me.

"Music was all I used to have and it was all that I needed. Or so I thought until I met Chloe. And as corny as it sounds she changed everything. Every day it became more and more difficult for me to distinguish between her role in my life and what I used to think was the role only music could play for me.

"She's everything I told myself I never needed. She's soft, when I thought I would never stray from the rough edges I had been running on. She's caring, even when people give her the right to stop she keeps caring. She gives people second chances. I've watched her give her exes the second chances they never deserved. I've been there for her when each relationship ends and I think to myself that she's got to know she deserves better, she's got to know how much more she's worth, she's got to know that she should be treated like she's a novelty. Because she is just that and so much more.

"She somehow turned into that first breath of air to me. And every minute I'm with her I can't help feeling…" I paused, refocusing on the facts. "But it doesn't matter. She's my best friend and I can't ruin that. She got into Johns Hopkins for med school. She'll be in Baltimore and I'll be in LA."

The loud clatter of a busboy at the table next to us was the only noise that drifted between us. Shelby kept an eye on me, her eyebrow arching up in Chloe-like fashion as she asked, "That's it?"

I shrugged. What did she mean that's it? That was the most I had ever said on the topic and she's asking me if there was more?

"I guess I just don't understand what the problem here is," she flippantly commented. "You love her. She's not straight. She's going to be a doctor."

"That's what you got out of that?" I asked incredulously, seriously regretting my decision to spill my guts to this girl. It was clear to see why she and Luke got along. Mincing words didn't seem to be a skill either of them possessed.

"Yes, that's what I got out of all that. She makes you feel safe, she makes you feel sane. Yes, she's your best friend and yes, your friendship wouldn't be the same if she didn't return the feelings but did you even hear what you were saying?"

She shook her head at me when I didn't reply, "You talk about her like she's some unattainable but if you took the time to sit her down and tell her half of what you just told me she'd be a fool to let you walk away from this," her words were laced with conviction. And I wanted to believe her, but I wasn't so sure.

Shelby must have sensed some of my hesitance because she barreled on. "This… everything you just told me, that's not some fleeting pass of lust for your friend. It's been sustained over years and strengthened over years and I get that you've been fighting it for years but how can you not want to take a chance?" She punctuated her question with eye contact.

"Don't you think what she deserves is for you to take a chance? If you're not willing to risk everything for this girl then maybe you need to reevaluate because you don't let love slip away just because you're too much of a pansy to tell her how you feel."

I splayed my hand out flat on the table, my focus turned toward the chipped nail polish that adorned my fingernails.

She was right, of course, although there was certainly a more eloquent way of phrasing it all. But… "None of that changes the fact that she's going to be in Baltimore…"

Shelby rolled her eyes at me, "Oh, buy a fucking phone like everybody else in the country. You're going to tell me that you would give up the chance to be with this girl, this girl you spent the last five minutes making metaphors about, which is something I highly doubt you do in your free time. You're telling me that you'd give that up just because of a little distance."

She leveled me with a look. It was a look that said _that's complete bullshit_. I would know, I had perfected it around age twelve.

"It's a little more than a little distance," I argued halfheartedly reasoning that it was a lot of distance.

"Distance doesn't mean shit," Shelby deadpanned. "If you love someone they could be halfway across the world from where you are and that's not going to change the fact that you love them."

She pushed away from the table slightly, "For argument's sake, let's say that you and Chloe get together and she graduates from med school and wants to move to Africa for a year to save the orphans or dolphins or something. Do you break up with her?"

"I-" I struggled to get a word out but was promptly cut off.

"No, you don't. You don't break up with her because you love her and because you know that whatever love the two of you have is strong enough to survive no matter the distance that it's spread.

"Look, I get it. You tell me she's in a relationship, that she's been in relationships. You say that she's going to be in Baltimore, that you'll be on the other side of the country. You say she's your best friend, that you can't ruin your friendship for whatever it is you're feeling."

She leaned back over the table, her palms facing up, "Can't you tell that every reason you've told me tonight is just an excuse. They've all been excuses, reasons you've used to back up your rationale when you could have just taken the leap. Nobody's going to do it for you but you've got to know that it would be worth it.

"Don't you just want the not knowing to end?" I did.

"Don't you just need to know where you stand on this?" I wanted nothing more.

"What's the worst that could happen? She says she doesn't feel the same way and you move on, you move on to your new life in LA with piece of mind and the knowledge that you tried. You can learn from that, you can learn from your past but you'll never have a past if you don't start living."

I took a deep breath in. She made it seem so simple. She broke it all down as though if it were a simple crossword and she had already caught a glance of the answers.

I wasn't sure I was ready for those simple truths. So I turned to my favorite defense mechanism, distraction and sarcasm.

"Are you a psych major or something?" I asked sardonically.

Shelby ignored me, nonchalantly replying, "Naww I just watch a lot of Dr. Phil."

I met her gaze across the table. I watched her lips twitch while she tried to keep her straight face before she burst out into laughter. I couldn't help but join in. And as we were laughing hysterically for reasons none of us would probably be able to explain I couldn't help thinking that maybe this date hadn't been that bad of an idea.

Sure, Shelby and I were not in any way, shape or form a good romantic match but having a new friend wasn't so bad.

XXXXXX

"Don't break anything while I'm gone," I called back as I opened the door to the station and began to move out of it.

"Okay Mom," Taylor's voice followed me on the way out. I smiled, closing the door before turning to walk the path home.

It was two days after the disastrous double date. After Shelby had delivered her prompt and to the point advice, we decided to ditch Aubrey and Luke and continue our conversation adding a little friend called Jose Cuervo to the mix (her choice, definitely not mine). I did my best not to let my thoughts stray as she talked about her ex, an ex it was clear she was still in love with. However, ten minutes into her long ramble my thoughts drifted to Chloe, as they often did.

I wanted to take a chance. I wanted to be brave. But I wasn't. Chloe was the strong one, I was weak. I wanted so much not to be but it seemed like I was fighting a battle long since ended, a battle that ended with the chips stacked in any possible way but my favor.

So rather than dashing to Chloe's apartment after Shelby and I said our goodbyes I walked home. I walked home to my single room and pulled up my laptop. I escaped from this world much in the way that I always did. I lost myself in the down beats and found myself again in a moment of sheltered genius in a new harmony. It felt right and more importantly it felt safe.

I was hiding. I knew that. I was hiding from Luke, who hadn't seemed all too pleased when I told him Shelby and I weren't going to work out. He had to understand that he essentially set me up with a girl who shared way too many of my own mannerisms.

I didn't want to date someone who was exactly like me. Nobody wanted to date themselves. Well, there were probably some narcissists that did but that's beside the point.

I was certainly hiding from Chloe. Although I doubted that one needed any elaboration. Despite the pangs I felt whenever I thought about the fact that we hadn't spoken in over a week I had been doing a great job of hiding from Chloe.

I was hiding myself between the sheets of music I was producing.

I walked along the sidewalk, cars drifting by in an almost constant pattern. It was a relatively nice day out. The sun was shining brightly and there was relatively no wind.

I looked forward to see the birds having a freaking heyday over a trash can that had spilled over. I laughed as they chased a squirrel away from the loot.

"Get in the car," a shrill voice came from seemingly nowhere. I turned, clutching a hand to my chest to see Aubrey's silver Audi pulling up next to me. Apparently there was one other person I should have been hiding from.

"Jesus, is it scare the shit out of Beca month or something?" I asked looking up toward the sky for an answer.

"Get in the car, Mitchell," Aubrey demanded, her voice low and in control. It was oddly disconcerting.

I cast a leery glance at the car, a glance that Aubrey caught. "Just get in the car, it's not like I'm going to kidnap you or anything."

I searched her face for any sign of lying. Finding none, I cautiously opened the passenger door and slid into the front seat. I wound the seat belt and clicked it into place.

"Aubrey, lovely to see you. How are the kids? How about-"

"Stop," she cut me off shortly. "I don't have time for that crap. Here's what's going to happen: I'm going to talk, you're going to listen. If I ask you a question, you're going to answer that question truthfully. Got it?"

I found myself nodding, probably more in fear than anything. Was this real life? Did I somehow stumble into a 50's gangster drama by mistake?

"You're an idiot," she started, putting the car into drive and filtering back into traffic.

"I've been getting that a lot, thank you," I replied before I even realized I was speaking. Aubrey turned in her seat to glare at me before her eyes went back to the road.

I sent her a sheepish smile that she ignored before continuing, "Do you have any idea what I've had to deal with for the past week and a half?"

I opened my mouth to reply, her glower snapping my jaw back shut promptly.

"I'll tell you what I've had to deal with, I've had to deal with the mess that you made and haven't done a damn thing to fix. Let me lay this out for you in case you don't understand what's been happening," she adjusted her grip on the steering wheel in a menacing manner.

"Chloe asked to meet with you that Tuesday because she wanted you to be the first one she shared it with. She went out of her way to let you be the first person she told that she had gotten into a medical school most people only dream about. And what do you do?"

She didn't even bother pausing before charging forward, "You tell her she's selfish. You accuse her of making the decision based off Drew, which couldn't be farther from the truth. All she wanted was for you to be happy for her and you couldn't do that for her.

"And then you, what? Ignore her entirely? Don't think to apologize? No, instead you do nothing. You don't do a thing at all."

We pulled up to a red light. She turned toward me, "Oh I'm sorry, I must be forgetting that you did do something. Yes, on Tuesday you went on a date and I can't even begin to explain how low that makes you on my list because instead of thinking of ways to apologize you go out on a date.

The light changed to green and we eased away from the stand still. "And since when are you looking for relationship? Because last I checked you were the most outwardly spoken anti-relationship activist I've ever met. You spend how much of your time casually telling Chloe that relationships are pointless-"

"Not all relationships," I mumbled wondering where she was taking me.

"What was that?" Aubrey asked, her voice taking on a raised edge. Oh right, I wasn't supposed to be talking.

"I… I, erm, just said that not all relationships are pointless," I stuttered out.

"Fantastic, you aren't a complete cynic," Aubrey muttered, throwing a hand up in exasperation. "Now moving on…"

I wasn't interested in letting Aubrey walk all over me. I wasn't interested in getting lectured like a child. I was also incredibly interested in getting out of this car however something told me that I was more likely to get out of the first two then the car.

"No," I cut her off. Gaining some confidence when she held her tongue, "Not all relationships are pointless. I was just saying that all of Chloe's are."

"Excuse me?" Aubrey's eyebrows shot toward her hairline. Perhaps I hadn't phrased that the best way possible. "So, what? You can have a relationship but Chloe's incapable?"

"That's," I shook my head, "That's not what I meant…"

"So explain it to me, huh? Explain to me what you meant," Aubrey commanded, honking at a car that cut us off. Of course she had road rage, I wasn't surprised at all.

"I just, I meant… I uh," I started and stopped multiple sentences. Taking a deep breath, I reasoned I might as well level with her. "I just meant that Chloe's got horrible taste when it comes to relationships. She always picks people that treat her like shit and end up cheating on her or dumping her for no good reason."

"You're right," Aubrey said simply.

"I know it kind of- Wait? I'm right?" I asked, astounded Aubrey actually agreed with me on something.

She nodded, "You're right. She has horrible taste in people but you're also wrong."

That was more like it.

"You're wrong because the majority of them don't dump her for 'no good reason,'" she said making air quotes around the phrase.

I tilted my head slightly to the side, "What do you mean?" What other explanation could there be for it? It was Chloe. There would never _be_ a good reason for anyone to dump her.

"What I mean is they normally have a pretty good reason to break up with her and it's normally the same reason almost every time," she fixed me with a pointed look that told me I should know what she was referring to. I didn't.

"And that reason is…?" I gestured for her to continue.

"God, you're an idiot," she said, infuriated.

"So we're back to that, now?" I asked when she didn't say anything else.

She exhaled heavily, "I don't know what else you want me to say."

I shot her an incredulous look, "You haven't said anything!"

"I've said plenty," Aubrey countered and pulled into a familiar parking lot. She took her keys out of the ignition. She twisted an individual key free and handed it to me. "Now, you're going to go up to my apartment and you're going to stop being an idiot and apologize to her. You two not talking is getting on my nerves."

"It takes two people not to talk, Aubrey," I defended childishly.

"Yeah and both of you are idiots," she gave a little wave toward the door and unbuckled my seat belt for me. I shook my head at her, nonetheless getting out of the car with the key in hand.

"Beca?" She called after me, I stooped back down. "Can you just… this whole thing isn't just about Johns Hopkins. Just keep her talking. You might be surprised at what you find."

I nodded, not sure what she was getting at. I turned on my heel and made my way inside the building. My feet carried me forward, tracing a route walked countless times to Aubrey and Chloe's apartment. I stopped outside the door.

I tightened my hold on the key in my hand. It pressed painfully into the skin there. When I released I could see angry little red marks from where its edges had pressed in.

_You might be surprised at what you find._

I took a breath, letting it flow back out of its own volition. I turned the key over in my hand before placing it in the lock and turning. I pushed the door open and stepped into the apartment cagily. Letting the door slide shut behind me, I faced forward noting the empty living room and kitchen. Light flooded from the bottom of Chloe's door.

Maybe this wasn't so good of an idea. I could just leave now and no one would be the wiser. Except maybe Aubrey who was probably waiting in her car for me to flake just so she had a reason to run me over. I could outrun her or just take the back way out, I reasoned, turning back to the door.

"Bree?" A voice I hadn't heard in over a week sounded. It made me pause in place. I heard a door being thrown open at the owner of that voice approached me, "Did you find that-"

Her voice cut off as she must have noticed I wasn't her roommate. I sighed and turned to face her, a sheepish smile on my face.

"Aubrey, erm, gave me her key," I mumbled, holding the key up as evidence. Chloe's look of shock faded into one of annoyance as she shifted her body weight back and folded her arms defensively in front of her chest. She looked absolutely beautiful in sweats and a t-shirt. It wasn't fair.

"What are you doing here?" She spat out, with as much venom as she was capable of producing. It wasn't much in comparison to most people but for Chloe it was harsh.

"I… I wanted to talk," I disclosed. And even if it was Aubrey who had forced me up here I did want to talk. She was my best friend and if not speaking to her for a day was difficult, this last week had been hell.

She barked out a laugh, "Now you want to talk?" She turned her back to me and began walking away.

"You're the one who told me to stay the hell away from you," I shot back, not willing to take the full blame for this as I followed her into the living room. "I was just doing what you said."

"Because you ever do anything that I tell you to," she replied bitterly.

I shook my head, "You know what? I don't know what you want from me. You want me to stay away, then you get mad at me for respecting your wishes. You want-"

"What I want is for you to be happy for me!" She nearly shouted at me.

"Well I can't do that!" I yelled back. Taking note of Chloe's surprise, I softened my voice, "I can't pretend that I'm happy you're going to be 3000 miles away from me next year. I can't pretend that you choosing a city with Drew in it…" I heaved a shallow breath, "I can't pretend that you choosing Baltimore over LA, you choosing Baltimore over me doesn't hurt."

"What are you even saying? I'm not choosing Baltimore over you. I'm choosing a top tier medical school and maybe that decision does affect you but that doesn't give you the right to turn into some spoiled and huffy, little-" She cut herself off before she could say anything more.

I scoffed. "Go on then, finish it."

"No, I don't have to. I don't have to because you don't have the right to say any of this!" She spoke, enraged. I don't think I had ever seen her this angry before. This was over a week's worth of pent up frustration being ebbed in one long exclamation. "Who the hell do you think you are?"

"Who do I think I am?" I questioned, my voice rising.

"I thought you were my best friend but if you were my best friend you wouldn't be acting like some jealous teenager-"

"At least I'm not impulsively running off to some new city-"

"It's hardly impulsive!" She yelled back. "You don't say no to-"

"Johns Hopkins," I cut in, finishing the sentence with her.

"You can't go." I told her. She couldn't go there. She couldn't leave.

"Oh so now you get to tell me what to do?" She roughly ran a hand through her hair.

"Well somebody's got to," I spat back.

"You're unbelievable," she said incredulously. "Don't you see? You don't get a say in this," she yelled, visibly shaking now. "God Beca, you don't get to make this decision for me. It's not like you're my girlfriend!"

I felt a cold wave flash over me. My vision blurred as I considered the fact that maybe she had always known. All this time, maybe I hadn't been as good at hiding it as I thought. Maybe she knew and had been toying with me this whole time.

No one knew me better than Chloe Beale and I was fool to think she wouldn't have picked up on how I felt about her. I was a fool to think she didn't know and that that was why I wasn't given a chance. I was a fool to think I had a chance.

I didn't have a chance. I never had a chance and her words had just solidified it. I didn't need an at bat to strike out, it seemed.

My chest tightened uncomfortably, a knot forming in my throat. I never had a chance. I never had a chance.

_Never. Never. Never._

My heart reminded me with each noisy beat.

I nodded my head uneasily, dropping Aubrey's key at my feet and turning away. I couldn't do this. I couldn't do this.

"You're right," I choked out, still nodding while I backed away.

"Beca, I didn't-" Chloe began but I held a hand up to stop her.

I tore from the room numbly. Chloe's voice carried over me, apologetically but I didn't turn back. I walked away, fluidly apathetic because I had left my every hope in that apartment. I didn't know what to do. Because the not knowing had never hurt this badly. Not knowing didn't sink into the pit of my stomach and twist. Not knowing, I surmised, would never hurt as bad as knowing it all along.

**A/N: So there's that… Feel free to leave every hateful thought you have now into that little box below. Because sometimes I feel a little sadistic when I write these things. **

**Anyways, hope you enjoyed it. Still no clear update pattern for me since well… tests and papers and lab reports and probably a presentation I'm not aware about because that's how my life works.**

**Until next time…**


	4. Black and White

**A/N: Hey all! Sorry this one took a little longer, I got slammed with tests and projects this past week and hardly had any time at all to write. Thanks to everyone that reviewed last chapter, each and every one of them made my day a little brighter!**

**Here's the next chapter for you all…**

**Beca POV**

I walked as though on autopilot, the motor pattern engrained so deep in my brain I was able to move without any conscious thought to the act. Which probably was a good thing considering my each and every thought was currently devoted to the task of breathing.

My lungs constricted painfully, my throat was nearly swollen shut, but I kept walking. Each step was a reminder of what I was leaving behind.

_It was over. It was over before anything could even begin._

Reality sprung the words on me again and again. I felt the words churning over and over again in the core of everything I thought was important. And none of it even mattered, I wasn't sure any of it ever had. I never had a chance.

_Stupid, stupid, stupid._

A voice shouted at me, sounding oddly like that of a twelve year old version of myself. I couldn't bring myself to argue with it. I was stupid to think this was a world where a person like me could measure up to a person like Chloe Beale. I wasn't anywhere near her level and I knew that, I did. But this… this hurt more than I could have ever imagined.

I suddenly found myself outside of a familiar entrance. Almost robotically, I pushed forward and entered the building's comforting environment.

I kept my eyes fixed forward, ignoring the whispers around me. I didn't need the dull voices to inform me I looked every bit the mess that I felt.

_I never had a chance._

I walked numbly to the bar side where Colt was stacking clean glasses. I was almost able to make it. I was almost able to quell the overwhelming panic building up inside me. I almost made it through, my vision blurring with tears once more.

I choked out a sob, Colt's attention drawn to me at the sound.

"Uh, Luke?" In my periphery, I saw him shuffle to the backroom while keeping a guarded eye on me.

"What's the problem, Colt?" Luke's head popped out, panning the bar area for potential disaster before landing on Colt. Colt simply nodded in my direction, "DJ's going catatonic."

Luke's eyes snapped to where I stood, his expression dropping at the sight of me.

"Becky," he breathed out, pacing towards me.

And I shouldn't have been upset. I didn't have any reason to be upset. No one had died, no one was injured, there hadn't been any catastrophic event yet here I was.

_"It's not like you're my girlfriend!"_

Her words cut through me again. I choked down another sob.

_Never. Never. Never._

My heart beat out again and this time I couldn't hold it back anymore, this time I did break down. This time I gave myself over to the emotion bubbling dangerously inside of me. I let myself cry for lost possibility.

Luke was there in an instant, wrapping me up in his arms. I buried my face in his chest, shaking my head back and forth when he asked me what was wrong.

Because I couldn't tell him. I couldn't tell him that it was all wrong. That nothing was right anymore and that I didn't have any idea how I was supposed to move forward. I wanted to move back. I wanted to move back to the time where I didn't know, but I couldn't.

_"It's not like you're my girlfriend!"_

I sobbed openly at the thought, knowing what I knew now had changed everything. And there was no going back.

XXXXXX

"So she directly told you that she had no feelings for you?" Luke asked for what must have been the millionth time in the past twenty-four hours.

It was only a day later and though he had to know how fresh the wound was (it was practically still bleeding), he was trying to pry each and every detail of it from me. I was growing increasingly frustrated with him.

"Luke," I sighed, bringing my head to rest against the bar counter, "How many times do I have to tell you? She didn't need to."

And it was true. She had gotten her point across well enough that night. To be honest, I wasn't sure that I could have taken anything more direct. I was still impressed with myself for calmly walking away from it all.

Luke searched my features for something. Obviously not pleased with what he found he returned to the bar inventory he was currently conducting.

"I don't see how you would know unless she told you," he reasoned, shuffling around the bottles on display.

"Well, Luke. I've got these things called ears," I said, gesturing on either side of my head. "And I used them to hear the pretty clear message she was sending when she said that I wasn't her girlfriend."

"You're not, though," he replied simply, standing back to admire the new order.

I scowled at him. "Thanks, Luke. Because that's helpful," I bit out. I had barely moved past the stage of bursting into tears and he was badgering me back to my breaking point. It was times like these that I wished I had closer female friends to talk to this about. Sometimes it seemed like he just didn't understand.

"What? It's just… I don't know, Becky. I understand that this whole situation is bollocks, but don't you think you're getting ahead of yourself here?" He spoke evenly, nudging a box on the ground to his right.

I let out a breath, not in the mood to argue with the man who was pouring me free alcohol. I was always told one shouldn't bite the hand that aids them in their quest to get belligerently drunk. Or perhaps it was something with food... All the same, really.

A sharp buzzing on the bar countertop stirred me from my thoughts.

_Chloe Beale_

I frowned before dismissing it with a swipe of my finger. Looking up, I saw Luke's eyes focused on my phone. He shook his head at me.

I watched as he crouched down low disappearing from view, "And you're not going to even give her a chance to explain?"

"What's there to explain? It all seems pretty clear to me," I said even though I wished nothing more than for it not to be.

It was odd, longing for the gray when all I had wanted for so long was simple black and white.

"You're not going to hear her out?" He asked me. After a moment's pause, I shook my head.

"You're not interested in talking to her, trying to see where she was coming from at all?" He didn't wait for an answer this time, barreling through, "You're willing to drop your best mate of seven years just because you didn't get your way?"

His words had the impact he was intending as I winced at their sting.

"It's not like that," I argued, "She _is_ my best friend and I don't want to lose that. But I…" I fumbled for my words. "Luke, I _can't_ be her friend right now. I just can't. Not now. I need to put some space between us otherwise I'm going to lose it. And hopefully she can understand that."

He nodded, his gaze fixed over my shoulder towards the entrance. "So," Luke started, "You don't want to see Chloe."

"Were you even listening to anything I just said?" I berated him. He could be the world's best listener sometimes and then this?

He waved me off, a smirk appearing at his lips. "I'm just asking because if you don't want to see her, you'd probably better find a way to make yourself disappear real quick."

I whipped my head back in the direction he was looking so quickly it made my neck spasm. I didn't have time to process the pain because over at the entrance she had just walked in. Chloe Beale walked in through the entrance, her eyes glued to her phone's screen. Even from this distance it was easy to see the anxious crease evident across her brow.

I couldn't. I couldn't deal with this right now. Just because I was able to discuss it with Luke didn't mean I was ready for any sort of interaction with Chloe. It was too soon. I had to get out of here, but how?

I dropped to the ground without another thought. My hands stuck to the ground no doubt still splattered with drinks from the night before. From sticky hand to sticky knee, I scurried to a place behind the bar, just in time by the sound of it.

"Chloe," Luke's voice boomed, "Fancy seeing you here. Care for a drink?"

I looked up, noticing the backroom was too far for me to escape to without anyone at the bar noticing, without Chloe noticing. I was stuck. I curled up out of sight near Luke's feet, waiting for her response.

"Hey Luke, thanks but I actually came here to ask you something," her voice filtered through the air, my chest tightening at the sound. The tightening a reminder as to why I couldn't be her friend right now. It was completely overwhelming and each of her words, no matter how insignificant, triggered me back to the night before.

"Well go on then," Luke prompted, staggering slightly when he unintentionally stumbled over my legs where they rest. I gave him an apologetic look that he couldn't see and brought my knees up to my chest so they were out of his way.

"I was just wondering if you've seen Beca at all lately," she asked and I heard the tell-tale sound of a stool being pulled out from in front of the bar. It screeched back into place and I gathered that she had taken a seat.

"Lately?" Luke's voice carried a playful tone, a smirk appearing on his lips. He cast his eyes down to me briefly. One look up told me he was enjoying the way the situation was unfolding. He stopped enjoying it when I gave his shin a hard punch that caused him to grunt in pain. He covered the grunt only mildly conspicuously with a cough before continuing. "No I can't say I have."

Chloe let out an audible sigh at his answer. "Is there any reason you're looking for her?" Luke asked.

"I… She's been avoiding me. Since I told her about Johns Hopkins, which you know because I saw you right after but now… now she's _really_ avoiding me," Chloe stated.

"Because there's a difference between the two," Luke quipped back, his posture turning defensive after he received, what I assumed, was a glare from Chloe.

"No, it's just… she came over last night and I was an ass to her, not that she was all that kind to me either," she tacked on, Luke's foot tapping at my side as though to gather my full attention to the conversation. I knocked his foot away. Because where else would my attention be right now? "But that's beside the point really, because that's normally what happens when people get mad and-"

"Chloe," Luke calmly cut her rambling off.

"Right, sorry," she let out another deep breath. "We both said some pretty harsh things, but I… She's been dodging my every call and text and I know she didn't sleep in her room last night."

I hadn't but I wasn't sure how she had known that. I had stayed on Luke's couch last night after he insisted I not spend the night alone in my dorm. I didn't have a roommate so she couldn't have found out I didn't come home last night from them. The only other option was that she had monitored my dorm. I couldn't exactly imagine her sleeping outside my door but wouldn't put it past her. She was always incredibly determined.

What truly caught my attention was her voice. It was pained and I didn't know what possible reason she had to be pained over this. It wasn't her heart that had been cut into thin, brittle pieces and scattered over the cheap carpet in her apartment.

It made me angry almost. She didn't have the right to be pained. I was the one in agony, I was the one in who had lost it all last night, not her.

"Look Luke, I get it. I get that you're on her side for whatever the hell this is and that the two of you are 'bros' that go on double dates together," I scrunched my face up in confusion. I had no idea how she knew about that.

Then again… It was probably the same answer to my previous question. Aubrey. That girl couldn't keep her mouth shut.

Focusing back in I heard Chloe continue, "I get that you're always looking out for her and I'm thankful for that because she needs someone in her life that's going to take care of her and maybe I thought I was that person for a while, but I get that she needs more than that. I get all of it. But I _need_ to talk to her."

Her voice had a sense of urgency to it. It caused Luke to turn his gaze downward, locking quickly on my own. He asked me a question with his eyes. I shook my head rapidly answering him. He gave a brief shake of his head in response before turning forward.

"I'll let her know," Luke told her concisely. There must have been some hesitation on her part because Luke stared forward before the noise of the stool pushing back signaled her departure.

I let out a breath, bringing my forehead to rest on my knees. I stayed where I was as Luke moved over to the shelf he was last taking inventory on.

"You can't ask me to do that," he said, his voice low and his back to me. "I'm not going to lie to her for you. I understand that she hurt you but you can't expect me to do that."

I nodded, knowing I couldn't ask that of him. All joking and playful insults behind, Luke was a good guy. He was a good guy, one that didn't enjoy lying. I didn't blame him and was thankful he had even done this for me.

I kept my head down as a pair of shoes I didn't recognize clicked into view.

The owner of the shoes peered down at me, quizzically. "Luke, when I suggested we come up with a new way to clean the floors I was thinking more like a Roomba or something not having someone sit on their ass to monitor it 24/7."

I rolled my eyes at her, giving her a sarcastic grin. "Hardy, har, har, Shelby."

She turned to Luke, seemingly unfazed by my comment, "Have the new schedules been posted yet, Boss Man?"

He nodded, hiking a thumb over his shoulder, "Yeah, they're in back. Your paycheck's back there as well."

"Yes," she said, holding the _s _in the word while doing a mini fist pump.

Luke shook his head, a smile on his face. "You're the only employee we have on staff that doesn't use direct deposit, why is that?"

She shrugged, "There's something oddly gratifying about cashing your own checks. Call me old fashioned but I'm not interested in letting some machine take that away from me."

Luke gave her a look, but didn't say anything.

"So… anyone going to tell me why Beca's playing a doormat or is this a normal occurrence I've been missing out on by not taking Thursday shifts?" She asked, hopping up to sit on the back ledge.

"Oi, get down from there," Luke called.

She ignored him, turning to me. So I told her. I told her about what had happened and about what Chloe had said.

I was expecting her to be the slightest bit contrite because it was her who had given me the advice to take a leap. Then again, I suppose I shouldn't have been that surprised when she was hardly apologetic at all. She didn't seem the type to apologize for much of anything.

"So you told her how you feel then?" She asked almost immediately after I finished.

"Well…" I began, tracing a seam on my jeans, "not exactly-"

"So you didn't tell her how you feel?" She gathered, swinging her feet in front of her like a child would.

"Well I didn't exactly get a-"

"I'll take that as a no," she cut me off, dismissively. She began to pick at her nails, inspecting them before turning her gaze on me.

"Well I-"

"Still a no," she broke in.

"Will you let me talk?" I exclaimed, voicing my irritation with her. She gave a small nod, unconcerned with my reaction. "No, I didn't tell her," I saw Shelby open her mouth to cut me off but I held up a hand silencing her, "I didn't tell her because I didn't need to. You heard what she said. She's not interested. She's probably known all along about it but was too nice to kick the puppy dog that's been following her around for the past seven years."

I sighed dejectedly, frowning as I thought about the scenarios that had been piling up in my mind since the previous night. I had been questioning everything since then. Was she only tolerating me all this time? Was she too nice to tell me to back off all this time? How long _had_ she known?

Luke was looking on with sympathy, while Shelby looked unimpressed.

"But you didn't tell her how you feel?"

"No, I didn't tell her how I feel!" I shouted back in frustration. "Jesus, it's like you two never listen!"

Luke took a step back, in a way that signified his lack of involvement in this particular argument.

"Then you don't really know, do you?" She asked.

I looked up at her. Did she have any idea what I had been through in the last day? Didn't she just hear what I had told her? How could she possibly expect me to go through what I was feeling again and this time on purpose? Didn't she know I couldn't do that?

Several hours later I was pondering just that. The bar had been steadily filling around me with Thirsty Thursday patrons. I had moved myself up to a bar stool shortly after Shelby had departed, leaving me to turn her words over in my head.

A couple of friends approached me, only to leave after a quick exchange. That probably had more to do with the perma-scowl on my face than my conversational skills.

My only consolation was the free drinks Luke was pouring, unfortunately he had been dodging my requests for more alcohol whenever he deemed fit. Because of this I was stuck in a limbo between tipsy and drunk only causing my scowl to deepen. Luke wasn't even letting me get drunk.

It was probably for the best. While I had never been that emotional drunk, I had a feeling the events of the last twenty-four hours may have caused that to change. I wasn't that interested in finding out.

"Beca," a voice to my left drew me back to the present. I turned, seeing one of the few people who could possibly make this night worse standing beside me.

"Drew," I replied shortly.

He laughed in response. It made my blood boil before it ran cold. Had Chloe told him? Did she call him over to have a good laugh over her poor, hopeless friend Beca?

"I thought we'd be able to move past this," he told me, trying to get Luke's attention from down the bar.

"What made you think that?" I hissed out, taking a drink from the empty glass I was wishing was full again. Alas, only a drop of alcohol remained. I set it back down disappointedly.

He gave me a funny look, one I couldn't decipher. "Oh, I don't know, maybe the fact that I'm not dating Chloe anymore."

"What?" I nearly cried out in shock, turning on my stool to face him.

He laughed again. "That was the reason you hated me, wasn't it? Because we've actually got a lot in common although I'm sure you were too busy glaring at me every time we were in the same room to notice that."

I looked him over, he was smiling at me. Was he just messing with me? He seemed genuine, but that didn't explain why Chloe hadn't mentioned it before. Granted, we hadn't been talking lately but…

"When?" I asked him.

"Something like a month ago," he stated, unaffected by my bluntness. He didn't seem too broken up over it.

A month. They broke up over a month ago and Chloe didn't tell me? That didn't explain…

"What about Baltimore?" The question tumbled out.

"Oh yeah, isn't that awesome? I can't believe it. I didn't think I was going to know anyone in the area but now she'll be there. It's great. She told me she'd be my wingman and everything," he informed me.

I furrowed my brow. Wingman? What was he on about?

"What?" He picked up on my expression. "Just because we dated doesn't mean we can't be friends."

"Was it amicable?" I found myself asking, still trying to get my head around the idea of it all.

"Well yeah. I mean I broke up with her, but she didn't seem all too surprised. Not the first time it's happened apparently," he smiled as Luke finally made his way to where we were. Luke cast a leery glance between the two of us before taking Drew's drink order.

"And that reason is…?" I couldn't help asking, curiosity getting the better of me.

"_That_, I will not tell you," he chuckled out, accepting his drink from Luke and tipping him before turning back to me. He smirked at my puzzled expression, "You should talk to her about it maybe. See you around."

And then he was gone and I was left alone with an empty glass of whiskey in a bar full of people.

XXXXXXX

"That was the latest track from the Cold War Kids. Keep the requests coming and we'll keep the music rolling right after a word from our sponsors," I tapped the button on the mic, making certain the ads and a healthy amount of songs from the request line were queued up and ready to go before taking the headphones off.

I was on the night shift, once again. I was beginning to doubt that the freshmen at the radio station were actually dropping like flies to the stomach flu. This was the third week in a row and I had it on good authority that there was going to be a free show on campus. Had I really cared I'd have taken the time to find someone else to cover the shift so I could casually bump into all of my "sick" coworkers at the concert.

Truthfully, I didn't care. In fact, I needed the time to think.

Drew had broken up with Chloe a month ago and she hadn't told me. There had been plenty of opportunities in the week before our fight for her to bring it up, but she hadn't.

It didn't make any sense. And borrowing a phrase from Luke's vernacular, it was doing my head in.

I wasn't sure why. It hadn't changed anything. Not really. It didn't change the fact that she wasn't interested. It actually made that fact sting a little more considering she was once again single and wanted nothing to do with me.

This was the stop on my thought train where Shelby's words came back.

_"Then you don't really know, do you?"_

I hadn't explicitly told Chloe how I felt. I hadn't explicitly laid my heart out on the line. That didn't mean it couldn't still be broken though… or did it? The topic that was once nearly cemented in my thoughts now seemed open to further discussion.

If I had actually told her, what would she have said? Would she have heard me out? Would she have felt the same way?

_No._

I shook my head. It didn't matter. I didn't need it to be stated clearly. I wasn't a fool. I could read between the lines.

If her words hadn't been enough then the expression on her face had told me it all. I never had a chance.

A noise from the outside the booth nearly made me fall back from my chair. I quickly exited the booth, noticing the pounding coming from the door. I flung the door open, fully intent on giving Luke a piece of my mind only to notice it wasn't Luke standing there.

"Chloe…" The name fell from my lips of its own accord.

**A/N: I'm a horrible person leaving it there, but it was the best place for a break. That being said, this chapter is a little shorter than what I normally like for chapters. I did give you a longer Chapter 3 if that helps you loathe me a little less.**

**Thanks for reading and if you so wish, I would love it if you left your thoughts in the box below. I hope everybody has a fantastic weekend and enjoys their St. Patrick's Day! Nothing like a little green beer and whiskey to bring everybody together (although I do not advise combining the two into a mixed drink no matter how good of an idea it seems at the time).**

**Until next time…**


	5. Imagination

**A/N: Welcome to the world's longest chapter. If you're wondering what's been taking me so long… well, here it is. Thank you again to all of my frequent reviewers, you are phenomenal! I love to hear what you all think so don't be afraid to review. **

**Beca POV**

_A noise from the outside the booth nearly made me fall back from my chair. I quickly exited the booth, noticing the pounding coming from the door. I flung the door open, fully intent on giving Luke a piece of my mind only to notice it wasn't Luke standing there._

"_Chloe…" The name fell from my lips of its own accord._

She rolled her eyes at me in an exaggerated and sloppy gesture. Somehow, she lost her center of mass and swayed dangerously toward the wall next to the door. Her shoulder came roughly into contact with it, making me wince. It was brick, for fuck's sake. That had to hurt.

But she hardly looked affronted at all.

A sudden cool breeze came from outside, blowing her scent towards me. Her usual scent was masked by the smell of vodka and stale beer.

Drunk. She had to be so drunk. It was a Friday night and I didn't have to check the time to know it must have been near bar close.

She was wearing a short blue dress that, coupled with the stilettoes gracing her feet, should have stolen every bit of my attention. However, in her clearly inebriated state I was more concerned that she was going to fall over at any moment.

She snorted at my lack of words beyond her name before roughly pushing me to the side of the door frame so she could enter. I watched her walk by, still amazed that she was actually here.

After spending so much of the past seven years with her, any amount of time without speaking to Chloe seemed long and a form of contrived reality. I wasn't sure what hurt more, forcing myself to avoid her or actually being in her presence.

Being in her presence was just another reminder of what never would be.

_Why_ was she here?

She staggered to the desk in the middle of the station and hopped none too gracefully onto it. I did my best to ignore the way her dress bunched, its length now bordering on indecent. She swayed from side to side for a moment before finally opening her eyes and glaring at me.

She pointed an accusatory finger in my direction, "You. I have some things to say to you."

I sighed, closing the door behind me. I had dealt with a drunk Chloe before. She was a stereotypical drunk who dwelled in the extremes of her emotions when drinking. If she was happy, she was ecstatic. If she was sad, she would wallow indescribably in her sadness.

This evening it appeared that she was angry and that I was going to hear all about it.

I had been avoiding her for the past two days and now she had found me. I hadn't wanted to see her, hence the avoidance, but there didn't appear to be any escape at this point.

"Aubrey told me I shouldn't come here but I did anyway because you've avoiding me," she narrowed her eyes in what was meant to be some form of intimidation. In her drunken state, it just made her look like she had a lazy eye. "You want to know how I know you've been avoiding me?"

"How, Chloe?" I humored her, moving to stand in across from her, my back resting against the shelf there. I drew my arms in front of my chest, trying to look indifferent but probably failing on all accounts. It didn't seem to matter, Chloe's unfocused eyes could barely track my form.

"Because you haven't been answering my calls or texts and you're never where you're supposed to be," she stated firmly, her eyes closing heavily before reopening. "And- and- and you've been an ass!"

I was beginning to question how she even got here. I don't think I had ever seen her this drunk before which was saying something considering I had been the one to hold her hair back when we first decided to drink at a party in high school.

"You've been an ass!" She restated, as though I hadn't heard her the first time. "You make me so angry, you know that?"

I nodded congenially; deciding that letting her vent might be the best way to proceed here. She clearly was not coherent and probably wouldn't remember any of this tomorrow anyways.

"Because you're all," her voice pitched downward in what must have been an attempt to impersonate me although I was certain my voice sounded nothing like that. "'Relationships are pointless and the only thing I care about is my music and LA and being a DJ and not caring.'"

She was drunk. I wouldn't hold the poor impersonation against her.

"And I kept telling myself that our friendship was too important, that you were my best friend and that I needed my best friend. Well, I guess _you_ didn't feel the same way," she waved a sweeping hand in a dramatic fashion that almost unseated her bottom from the desk. "Because _you_ don't give a shit about our friendship, do _you_? You just care about, about- about music and LA and not caring."

She wasn't making any sense. I shouldn't have been that surprised considering how incapable she was of walking, it would fit that she lost all verbal skills as well.

I shook my head at her.

"Don't," she started, her glazed eyes widening, "Don't you shake your head at me, Beca Mitchell. You called _me_ selfish for getting into my dream school, well guess what? _You're _selfish. You're selfish all the time and you pretend to be all aloof but you've got to know what you're doing."

I ran a frustrated hand over my face. I didn't know how to handle this. This certainly wasn't what I was expecting when I had first opened the station door. I wasn't expecting her at all. I was expecting to yell at Luke for barging in again. But it was her and when I noticed it was her, I was expecting her to walk in with that Chloe Beale presence she always possesses and calmly sit me down to have a conversation.

This was just her drunkenly ranting. Her insults weren't even making any particular sense. She looked about ready to pass out any given moment.

She stumbled forward as she tried to stand up, regaining her balance before she closed the distance between us. "You," she poked me in the chest, hard. "Know. Exactly. What. You're. Doing." She punctuated each word with another hard poke to my chest.

"You're drunk," I told her, rubbing tenderly at the spot she had poked. She was much stronger than you'd expect looking at her.

"Pfttt," she scrunched her face up, "I've had like two or three drinks, tops."

She held four fingers up in front of me before turning them back so she could inspect them.

"And even if I was drunk, it wouldn't matter, would it?" She asked, staggering back slightly. I held a cautionary hand up, ready to catch her before she hurt herself. "Answer me that, Bec_a_," she emphasized the _ca _of my name.

"Chloe, I've got absolutely no idea what you're talking about," I told her honestly.

"Of course you don't!" She threw her hands up in exasperation, knocking a stack of CDs from behind her. She hardly noticed she had done such, continuing on, "But you do, don't you?"

I shook my head at her. As I stated before, I had absolutely no idea what she was talking about.

I weighed my options. I took a look at the clock to see it was 2:20 AM confirming my theory that she had come near bar close. It was two hours before anyone would be in for the morning shift. It didn't seem likely that Chloe was going to make it through two hours.

I could call Aubrey and make her pick up her roommate. She was probably wondering where she had ran off to. It seemed like the most logical decision.

I reached into my back pocket for my cell phone, ignoring Chloe's nonsensical ramblings in my other ear.

Dialing Aubrey's number I waited for the tone. Not even halfway through the dial tone it went to voicemail. Freaking typical. Of course her phone was off because that was my best option.

I could stack a playlist quick and try to get her home before it ran out. If I got a taxi, it would probably be possible.

"Chloe? Chloe!" I tried to grab her attention. She finally turned to me.

"You know," she said again.

"Yeah, yeah, I know. Listen, do you have your apartment keys?" I asked, hopefully.

"Bree has them," she replied, unsteadily swaying backwards again.

Well, that ruled out that possibility. Unless Aubrey was already home.

"Her and Luke were totally going to do it in the bar's backroom, I could tell," Chloe said, trying and failing miserably at adding a sultry wink to her comment.

Aubrey being home apparently wasn't a definite.

That left my room as the only remaining option. It was still a good ten minutes away on foot and I wasn't all too comfortable with the idea of leaving her alone in this state.

I shook my head again. I couldn't believe this was happening.

"Boss?" A voice from back came through. James, who worked the morning shift, walked out from the back entrance. "Hey, I couldn't sleep so I figured I would come and share some load of the freshmen ditch shift."

James was a good guy. He was a junior and my only real candidate for my predecessor. He gave a questioning glance to Chloe who had her head hung low, her hair creating a curtain in front of her face. She swung it from side to side.

"Don't ask," I told him, "And you couldn't possibly have better timing. Remind me to thank you tomorrow."

"Or you could thank me now…?"

Chloe shifted her weight unevenly and tumbled down hard to the ground. "Not the time," I informed him, helping her to her feet.

He nodded, "She okay?"

"She's incredibly drunk, but I'm sure she'll be fine," I draped her arm around my neck and bore the majority of her weight. Chloe buried her nose in the crook of my neck, her warm breath distracting me for a moment.

I looked up to see James smirking at me. I flipped him off and began to move towards the door.

I propped Chloe up against a wall nearby my bag, making sure she was stable before bending to pick up my bag. I slung it over my shoulder before guiding Chloe back toward me. She ended in the same position as before and I still carried almost all of her weight. Which, granted, wasn't very much but considering the height difference between us and the fact that her weight was progressively becoming more and more akin to dead weight I was struggling.

Not even halfway across the street, I realized this was going to be a challenge.

"Where we going?" Chloe's muffled voice asked.

"We are going back to my dorm," I replied shortly.

"Why's that?"

"Because you need to sleep this off and you don't have your keys to get back into your apartment," I said.

She hummed out a response and even though I willed myself not to have a response, it was inevitable. The vibrations sent my heart beating out an erratic rhythm and made my palms sweat. Even drunk out of her mind, she could send my heart racing.

"Why don't you like me?" She asked, her voice so soft I could barely hear it.

I paused. I must have missed when she transitioned from angry to vulnerable.

"I do like you, Chlo," I assured her. And I did like her, perhaps a little bit too much as it were. But she didn't need to know that.

"No, you don't," she argued. I looked down at her. Her eyes were closed, her head slanted down so the crease between her brow was apparent. The corners of her lips were turned down slightly.

"Did everybody get together and decided to stop listening to me this week?" I asked in jest, trying to say anything to get her to stop frowning. "I like you Chloe," I stated firmly.

I swiped my keycard to enter the dorm and we made the short journey to my door.

On the way, I felt her head shake from side to side, her hair tickling my neck. "No, Beca. You don't. But I wish you did."

"Alright Chlo," I said softly, pulling my keys out to open the door. Once it was opened, I carefully helped her over to my bed. I eased her down to sit on its edge. She laid down mostly of her own accord, backing up until her back was against the wall on the far side of my bed. Her eyes stayed closed through the process.

I walked to the foot of the bed and gently removed the heels from her feet. I pulled the bunched up sheet from there and covered her form in it. She didn't move.

I sighed, still trying to sort out what had happened tonight.

"Beca?" Her voice sounded, startling me slightly. I thought she had already been asleep. Looking now, I noticed her eyes were open just barely.

I paused what I was doing, kneeling down next to the bed. "Yeah, Chloe."

"I can't be your friend," she breathed out. I tried to ignore the sharp pain to my chest that resulted from her words.

What she had said earlier in the week had hurt, but this? This twisted and ached, salt in an open and festering wound.

I couldn't have her and now I couldn't have her friendship. When it rains, it pours and I never had a fucking umbrella.

She didn't even want to be my friend. I was an idiot. In the span of a week I had realized I never stood a chance with a woman I had been in love with for seven years and lost my best friend.

"I understand," I told her, when in reality I didn't understand at all. Then again, I had spent the last couple of days reasoning that I needed a break from the friendship. Although this circumstance was far from a daily occurrence in our friendship, I wasn't sure I could handle many more of these interactions.

I felt the back of her cold hand tracing my cheek and I tried not lean into it, failing miserably.

"No, you don't," she said, "You don't get it. I _can't_ be your friend anymore."

I blinked back tears at the conviction in her voice. God, if I didn't get out of this room this instant I was going to break down in front of her.

"I heard you, Chloe," my voice squeaked out, a lump forming in my throat. Her hand traveled down to rest on the base of my neck. I tried to pull it off me, but she held me in place. "I get it," I whispered.

"No, you don't," she said again.

I didn't have time to reply because she pulled my lips down to hers. My eyes flew open at the contact. Her lips moved hungrily against my immobile lips.

It was as though every nerve in my body was on fire. I felt everything. I felt her palm on the back on my neck, pulling me closer. I felt her lips, soft and supple against mine. I felt her breath upon my lips. I felt her heart beating wildly beneath my own. Then I felt her tongue begging for entrance.

I tasted alcohol upon her lips, but ignored it. My subconscious was screaming at me to stop, telling me this was only going to hurt so much more afterwards. But I ignored that too in favor of letting Chloe tug me onto the bed.

I felt her lips travel to the corner of my jaw before adventuring downward. Her hands pulled me closer until my body molded into hers. She moaned at the contact, her lips pulling away from my neck as she rest her forehead there for a moment.

It was a brief moment of reprieve before she continued her assault on my neck, licking, kissing, biting along as she went. She shifted me over, until I was on my side next her before pushing me lightly onto my back.

One hand was rubbing infuriating circles along my hip, the other trailed to my top, struggling with the buttons on my shirt. Her mouth followed, paying special attention to the juncture of my shoulder and neck. I squirmed beneath her touch.

I couldn't believe this was happening. This was actually happening.

_It's only happening because she's drunk._

My subconscious reminded me. This time it was enough to draw me back to reality. A reality where this would have never happened if she hadn't had so much to drink.

I couldn't do this. I should have stopped it sooner. It was the back of my mind that knew that a drunk Chloe was a horny Chloe. She wasn't trying to hook up with _me_, she was just trying to hook up.

Using every last bit of my strength and willpower, I gently pushed her back. Chloe's hand on my neck tried to tug me near again.

When I resisted, her eyes opened lazily, a grin on her face.

"What s'matter?" She drawled, her slurring another reminder of her current mental state.

"You're drunk," I replied, watching her brow knit in confusion.

She was drunk and probably didn't have a clue what she was doing. She probably didn't know how long I had waited for her to want me like that. But it didn't matter.

I nearly chuckled at the irony. Here was Chloe Beale, in my bed, doing her very best to get me naked and I was resisting.

But it wasn't right. _This_ wasn't right. And even if she didn't want to be my friend anymore I wasn't going to take advantage of her. I slid out from under her, reaching quickly for my boots. I couldn't be here.

My eyes were filling with the tears I had been denying. This time I couldn't suppress them. They overwhelmed me just as Chloe had done minutes before. I shoved my feet haphazardly into each boot, before moving to my door.

"Beca?"

"Just," I kept my back to the door. I ran a hand under my nose, unable to control the pathetic sniffle that came on the next inhale. "Go to sleep, Chloe."

I took one step outside the door. Closing it behind me, I slid downwards against it while bringing my head to my hands. The tears flowed freely now, I stifled a sob against my hand. What did I do to deserve this?

XXXXXX

**Chloe POV**

Light filtered onto my face. I opened my eyes, immediately regretting my decision. When did my room get so bright? I must have forgotten to close my shades the night before.

I groaned and buried my face deeper in my pillow. The slight movement caused a deep throb between my temples.

_God, how much did I have to drink last night?_

I moved to sit up, only to flop back onto the bed as my stomach flopped in nausea.

_Again, how much did I have to drink last night?_

I couldn't remember the last time I had been this hungover. The last thing I remembered was downing a line of shots at the bar.

I had ordered the shots to split with Aubrey but she and, suspiciously, Luke had disappeared a couple of minutes ago and I had gotten tired of waiting. The first two went down easily, as I was well past being drunk. The last one gave me a hint of trouble, the awful taste only ceasing when I sucked on a lime.

_How had I gotten home?_

I racked my brain for anything beyond the shots. Finding nothing, I thought that maybe it was better to go back further.

I had been planning on spending my night watching old movies and eating my way through the junk food cupboard. Aubrey had put a damper on that idea, barging into my room around 8 PM and informing me that we were going out. When I opened my mouth to reply, she informed me I didn't have a say in any of it. We were going out. And I was going to like it.

I knew better than to argue with Aubrey so I begrudgingly slipped into the blue dress she had tossed at me and strapped my feet into a pair of heels. I did my hair and my makeup, frowning at my reflection in the mirror.

_How had it come to this?_

We arrived at _PJ's_ and Aubrey sauntered up to the bar. I rolled my eyes as Luke scurried over from the other side of the bar. Those two were sickening.

I smiled and threw a thumbs up over to Drew who was chatting a girl up at a table nearby. I turned back to see Aubrey and Luke currently undressing each other with their eyes. And I was here alone.

I needed alcohol.

I made eye contact with Colt who slapped the preoccupied Luke upside the head with a rag before pouring me a drink. And another. For good measure, I told myself while downing another shot.

This was all my fault, anyways. It was my fault that I was alone. It was my fault that I always would be.

You see, it was all quite simple. I fell in love with my best friend, like some cheesy 80's movie said best friend refused to watch. I fell in love with a girl who hated relationships. I fell in love with a girl who would never see me the way that I saw her.

I was hopeful, early on. She was new in school and I was instantly intrigued. I rationalized it was because she was new in school, a new face in a crowd of kids I had been stuck with since preschool.

That first day the halls were abuzz with rumors about the new girl. I picked up pieces here and there.

She had moved into the old Rigley house on Manchester Road with her mother. Her parents were divorced, that was how she ended up here. She was a smartass, apparently she had told off her math teacher, who was a jerk for the record, when he tried to make an example of her for being late to class. She had gotten lost, but he didn't take that for an excuse.

I wasn't sure what I had been expecting when I finally had a class with her. It was English, my favorite class. She was on time for this class, but barely. She looked flustered when she scrambled through the door, a piece of paper containing her schedule in her hand. She flopped into the seat next to me, exhaling loudly as she pulled out a notebook and pen.

I did my best to listen to what Mrs. Pompei was saying, but found my gaze drawn to the girl beside me. She was small almost as though she had never really hit her growth spurt. Her lips were cast downward in a frown, telling me that she must not have been too happy about the new school. Her pen was moving rapidly and I followed it to see what she was doodling.

It was music notes. The years of piano I had taken caused me to immediately translate the notes into music. And the notes were drawn in a pattern that actually made sense. I found myself humming the notes in my head. They fit in a way I had never thought to put them together. It was like nothing I had ever heard before and I wasn't even hearing it yet.

She was talented, I knew even then. She was talented and I had to get to know her.

Mrs. Pompei split us into pairs and I slid our desks together happy for the opportunity.

"We're going to be great friends," I informed her.

I was loud and outspoken while she was sarcastic and hated to draw attention to herself. We balanced each other out. It was only months into our friendship that I realized I was in trouble.

I had never had any problems with my sexuality before. I had always thought it was more fluid than people gave it credit for. And when all the girls in school were having their first crush on Robby Miller, I wasn't all too bothered when to me he came a close second to Ashley Ramsey.

So I hadn't been that surprised when I began to fall for my new friend. It was nearly impossible not to. She tried so hard to hide behind her music, but I was getting to know her beyond it. And each layer I peeled back made me fall even harder for her.

At first, I tried to resist it. I made all of these reasons why I couldn't make a move on her my primary one being that there was no way she was interested. She hardly seemed interested in anyone at all.

I tried to forget it. I told myself it would be fine and that I was probably just lonely. So, I began dating Harry Gerrety. But quickly found out that didn't help.

His hands were too rough, his smile was too cocky. When he smirked, it didn't have the right amount of playfulness to it. He wasn't Beca.

After breaking it off with Harry, I decided that I had to at least try with her. Maybe she was better at hiding her feelings than I was. I began dropping hints, incredibly obvious hints to Beca around every turn. While I never directly came out and told her about my feelings I don't think I had ever flirted more blatantly in my life.

But she was immune, it would seem. She hardly reacted at all to my advances. Yes, I had always been touchy feely but it had to be clear that this was more. And she wasn't interested. I pushed it aside. I pulled back and respected her space. I wasn't willing to lose a friendship because of my feelings.

So I dated more. I dated boys trying to find some spark, when I couldn't find it I began to date girls. But it wasn't there either.

The more I dated, the more vocal Beca became about how pointless relationships were. It still stung, hearing the girl I desperately wanted to be in a relationship with bash relationships offhandedly.

Senior year came and I was dating a fellow senior named Zak. Besides getting a little handsy every movie night, he wasn't that bad. He was the guy I was expected to date. He was a football player, a typical all-American boy. And we got along well enough.

He was cheating on me, I knew that. After the first couple of times I caught him, he stopped bothering to cover it up. I knew I should break up with him. But I didn't. The way I saw it, it was leveling the playing field. I was in love with another person and he was screwing someone else. Fair was fair.

College was quickly approaching, drawing my attention away from my cheating boyfriend.

In a testament to how pathetic I was, I turned down a slew of East Coast schools choosing Barden instead. Barden, where Beca's father was a professor and where she would be attending the next fall. It was sad, really. I knew she wasn't interested, but I still wanted to be near her.

She was my best friend, I could want to be near my best friend. That was okay.

I lost track of the times I was broken up with a knowing glance from whomever I was dating. When Drew broke up with me telling me my heart wasn't in it, it hadn't been the first time. It hadn't even been close to the first time. Because try as I might, I couldn't just turn off my feelings for her and everyone else could see it.

I was in love with her and nothing I did seemed to help me shake that.

When I told her about Johns Hopkins I had expected her to be happy for me. I hadn't even considered Johns Hopkins as an option when I applied. I sent off my application without much of a second thought. I never thought I would get in.

I was ready to move to LA, to continue trailing pathetically wherever Beca went. But this was Johns Hopkins. You didn't turn down Johns Hopkins for anything especially not for something as pitiful as unrequited love.

Even still, my first thought after the call was to turn it down. I had already gotten into UCLA. We had already signed a lease for an apartment.

But it didn't matter what was already planned. None of that would change how she felt about me. I wasn't sure why I thought another four years with her would change everything.

I would go to Johns Hopkins. I would go to Johns Hopkins and try to forget.

When I told her, I wanted her to be happy for me. I wanted her to congratulate me. She didn't. She was sarcastic and became defensive as she often did. Something was off, I just couldn't put my finger on it. I thought maybe she was upset that I breaking the lease, but there was something more than that.

She called me selfish and I had to stop myself from laughing in her face.

Selfish? I had ruined countless relationships because of her. I valued our friendship above my own feelings. If I had been selfish, I would have blown her off as soon as I knew she didn't feel the same way. But I didn't. In what was surely masochism, I stayed where I was. I remained friends with the one person I couldn't have.

I over reacted, I'll admit. I blew up and pulled a couple of cheap shots before storming away from her that afternoon. I didn't even realize I was crying until Aubrey walked into the apartment. She was the only one who knew. I had drunkenly spilled my guts to her our freshmen year and in return she told me about the unhealthy pressure her family name had put on her since birth.

It was easy being friends with Aubrey. She was fiercely loyal and a genuinely good person. It didn't hurt to have a best friend I wasn't in love with for once.

It was strange, not speaking to Beca for a day. Aubrey told me to talk to her. She had been telling me to talk to her since freshman year, although the context had been different. She kept telling me that I should tell Beca how I feel, that I didn't know until I tried.

_I had tried,_ I wanted to tell her, _I had tried and nothing had come of it._

I continued to mope, until Aubrey forced me out for a drink that Friday. She had her eye on Luke, the bartender. The two had gone on a couple of dates, both wanting to take things slow. I hung back as she spoke to him finally asking him where Beca had been lately. He scratched the back of his neck, awkwardly, and lied straight to my face saying he hadn't seen her.

I hadn't expected much more. He had always been more Beca's friend than mine and after bearing witness to our argument earlier that week his response was to be expected.

That Tuesday, Aubrey came home from her date with Luke and was visibly upset. I went over to comfort her before realizing she was angry and not sad. She sat me down and told me it was a double date and that Luke had set Beca up on a date with a waitress from the bar.

_But, Beca didn't date,_ I reasoned with her, dismissing her words.

Beca had never dated before. I had always attributed it to her lack of belief in successful relationships but here she was dating. It made me realize she wasn't wholly against relationships. There were girls she was willing to have a relationship with, I wasn't one of them.

Then it was a week and half and she showed up at my apartment holding Aubrey's key. I panicked. I wasn't expecting to see her and she had Aubrey's key. Did that mean Aubrey had bullied her into coming?

She told me I couldn't go to Johns Hopkins. It was what set me over the edge. Who did she think she was telling me where and where I couldn't go? She wasn't my girlfriend.

I told her that and she pulled back. She pulled back mentally from the conversation. I could tell by the dim look in her eyes. Then she physically pulled back and was gone before I could even apologize.

_That was it,_ I told myself. _That was it. There wasn't a single thing left to keep me from Baltimore._

Telling myself that didn't keep me from wallowing. I wanted to talk to Beca, to at least repair our friendship before we went our separate ways. A seven year long friendship shouldn't end because of something as trivial, yet meaningful, as this.

I called her, I texted her, I even spent the night outside her dorm only to be woken up by a campus security guard the next morning when she didn't return home. But she was avoiding me.

And each shot I took that night led me one step away from sadness and another step toward anger.

_Who did she think she was?_

I was beginning to remember in flashes what had happened the night before.

I remember storming away from the bar after Aubrey and Luke disappeared in back again. I remember walking with purpose toward the radio station I knew she would be at. I remember pounding on the door and the bewildered look on her face when she answered it.

I remember stumbling over my words while trying to tell her why I was so mad. And she just stood there, well the three images of her I was seeing stood there as I ranted. She nodded here and there, but I didn't think she was actually listening to me.

She looked tired. I could see the faint black lines beneath her eyes that makeup couldn't cover. Her face was neutral, a clear sign that her thoughts were anything but.

I vaguely remember asking in a small voice why she didn't like me as we walked back. She replied softly saying she did. I wanted to tell her that she didn't, at least not the way that I wanted her to.

She eased me down to lie in her bed, taking care to remove my heels. I pretended for a moment that she did feel the same, that, as she pulled a blanket up to cover me softly, she would crawl into bed after.

She didn't.

I told her I couldn't be her friend anymore and I couldn't. It was too hard to be her friend and constantly keep checking how I felt about her.

My eyes flew open as I remembered what happened next. Her lips on mine, her body beneath my own.

_Oh God._

I practically forced myself on her.

_She hadn't exactly been pushing me away… _My subconscious reasoned.

But she did. She pushed me away. She pushed me away and told me to go to sleep. And then she left. She walked away and I knew that the kiss hadn't meant to her half of what it meant to me. It was liquid courage that coerced me into making a move, it was a sober mind that led me to the realization it was all one sided.

My stomach dropped into my ankles as I thought about her rejection. I hadn't expected it to hurt this much. I can't believe I had done that. It was over. Our friendship was finished.

I turned over on my side, more than aware now that I was in Beca's room. I looked over to the small couch on the other side of the room. It was still empty.

_Oh God, what was I thinking?_

I muffled a sob against my hand. I noticed a small piece of paper on the nightstand. I reached blindly for it. There in the familiar scrawl was confirmation that it hadn't meant anything to her.

_Chloe,_

_Went back to the station. Hit the lock before you leave._

It wasn't even signed. There wasn't even a hint of feeling in the note.

I heard my phone ringing from somewhere in the room. Aubrey's name flashed on the screen. I accepted the call.

"_Chloe, why aren't you in the apartment?" _She asked, her tone light.

I choked out a sob audible to the other end.

"_Chloe? Chloe? Are you okay?"_ Her voice came frantic over the line. I only sobbed in response. "_Tell me where you are and I'll come pick you up, okay?"_

"Beca's," I choked out.

"_That son of a bitch, what did she do to you?"_

"Bree, please," I begged her to leave it alone.

"_Okay, I'll be there as soon as I can,"_ she told me, the sound of her keys clinking together in the background.

I didn't bother changing clothes. I smoothed my dress down as neatly as I possibly could and threw my hair up into a haphazard bun. I grabbed my heels from the foot of the bed before taking one last look at the room.

I didn't bother wiping my face clear of tears. I deserved to cry. This time my crying was actually dignified. I had actually been rejected. There were no lines to read between. There was no in between anymore.

Aubrey's car pulled up the second I left the dorm's doors. She was out of her car before it even fully stopped, wrapping me up in a warm hug. She stroked my hair as I cried into her shoulder.

I told her what happened, even handed her the note.

She balled it up in her fist, directing me into the passenger seat of her car.

I calmed considerably once in there. Her jaw was set as she sped off in a direction opposite of our apartment.

"Bree? Where are we going?" I asked her, but she shook her head.

I felt tears spring to my eyes as we pulled up in front of the radio station.

"Bree, no. Just leave it," I asked her desperately, but she hadn't even made a move for her seatbelt.

"I'm not going anywhere," she replied almost too calmly. "But you are."

I tilted my head in confusion. "What?"

"You're going to go in there and you two are going to remove your heads from your asses even if I have to help," she told me firmly.

"I _can't_," I told her.

"Yes, you _can_," she affirmed. She turned towards me. "Listen Chloe, just go in there and explicitly tell her how you feel. Please, just do that. Once you do that, we'll go home. I promise, but not until then."

"Aubrey."

She put on the parking brake to reinforce her statement.

"Chloe, just tell her. What could it hurt at this point?"

_My heart_, I wanted to tell her. _I wasn't sure how much more it could take._

But the look on her face told me there was no way around this.

I pulled the visor down in front of me, running the back of my hand beneath my eyes to clear the makeup that had smeared there. Then, with all of the courage that I could muster I stepped out from the car and walked into the station.

XXXXX

**Beca POV**

I couldn't stay there. I couldn't. So I ran. It was something I was getting rather good at lately.

I waited in the hall until I was sure Chloe would be asleep before slipping back into my room. I set a bottle of water on the night stand and put a couple of advil there as well. I tore a piece of paper loose from a notebook, keeping it short. Then I left.

That was another thing I was getting rather good at.

I trudged back to the radio station, not knowing where else to go. James popped his head out of the booth in confusion when he heard the door open but didn't say a word.

It was another reason we got along so well. He was a loner and a misanthrope, two qualities many people attributed to me as well.

I laid down on the crummy couch in the station to hopefully get some sleep only to abandon the cause shortly after. I wasn't going to be able to sleep. That much was clear.

So I lost myself in the music again. I lost myself in the aisles of vinyl and the stacks of CDs.

I sorted them alphabetically, getting through a quarter of them before rethinking it and starting over again now sorting by genre. It was meticulous and mindless work. It was what I needed. I needed to stop thinking. I needed to stop remembering how much it all hurt.

I was so close. I was so close to escaping from all of this and starting over again in LA. Just a month ago I thought I would be there with my best friend. Now, I didn't even have a best friend.

The worst part was none of it changed. None of it changed the fact that I was in love with my best friend, or my former best friend as it were.

I wanted to hate her. I wanted to hate her for making me fall in love with her, but I knew that had been out of her conscious control. I wanted to hate her for being so perfect. I wanted to hate her for being smart enough to get into Johns Hopkins. I wanted to hate Johns Hopkins.

But I couldn't. Especially the last one, considering it was a medical school and had done nothing to deserve my hate except for accepting my best friend.

I heard the door swing open from where I stood in the farthest corner of the shelves. I didn't bother turning, assuming it was Anna in to relieve James. I wasn't all too shocked I had been here that long.

I stood on my tiptoes, trying to reach the last record on the top shelf. It had fallen flat and was nearly impossible for me to get to now. Stubborn as I was, I refused to ask for help.

I heard the floorboards creak behind me. Turning around, I was shocked to see a disheveled Chloe Beale standing in front of me in last night's clothes.

"I can't be your friend," she started, opening her mouth to continue but I cut her off.

"Yeah, Chloe?" I turned my back to her, "You've already told me. You don't want to be my friend, then fine. We won't be friends," I bit back. I couldn't… I just couldn't.

"Will you let me talk? God, you're infuriating, you know that? You're the most insufferable person I have ever met," she trilled on.

I rolled my eyes. So she had stalked all the way across campus to insult me.

"You never let anybody in and all you care about is your music, LA, and-"

"And not caring," I cut in again. "Yeah, you told me all this last night. Is there any part of this speech that's different or should we cut to the part where you pass out? "

"Oh, cut the sarcasm, Beca," she spat out. "You know what I've been doing the last seven years? I've been trying to convince myself that it would be the better for me to keep my mouth shut. I've been trying to let you be because our friendship is incredibly important to me, but now? Now, I'm saying fuck it.

"Fuck our friendship. Fuck those seven years of me keeping my mouth shut. Fuck all of it. Because none of it matters!" She shouted and I took a step back, turning to face her.

"None of it matters… or so I thought until last night. Tell me that didn't mean anything to you," I took another step back, this time for another reason. She had to know what that simple kiss had meant to me. It meant everything and any other clichés someone could think of. "Or was I imagining you kissing me back?"

She remembered. She clearly remembered a lot more from the previous night than I was expecting.

"Just tell me you didn't feel anything," she prompted, her voice bordering on desperate. "Tell me that and I'm gone."

I shook my head. I must have fallen asleep. I must be sleeping because it sounded to me like Chloe Beale had purposely kissed me and now she was demanding me to have felt something from said kiss.

"Okay," her voice softly cracked. Her eyes were filled with tears. She turned on her heel and began to speed walk away before I even realized what was happening.

"Wait!" I shouted after her.

She turned back to me, tears silently leaking from her eyes. "No, I get it. I was stupid to think you could have felt the same way. I was stupid to think you could possibly-"

But she didn't get another word out.

This time, I was the one to crush our lips together. This time, I was the one to grab the back of her neck and pull her closer. It was her lips that were frozen for an instant before beginning to fluidly move against my own.

It was my heart that sped up, pounding so loudly I thought she must have heard it. Slowing my lips against her own, I smiled genuinely for what must have been the first time since she had told me about Johns Hopkins.

"I'm in love with you, Beca Mitchell," she said so softly I almost didn't hear it.

"Say it again," I demanded, needing some reaffirmation that this was happening.

"I love you," she said more firmly this time. She pulled back to hold my face in her hands, her eyes finding and locking on mine. "I. Love. You."

"Good. Because I am so in love with you, Chloe Beale."

I planted another firm kiss on her lips before pulling away. I doubted I would ever tire of the spark I felt from a simple kiss.

I smiled so widely my face was beginning to hurt. Her returning smile was just as bright.

"You want to get out of here?" She asked me, leaning her forehead against mine. I nodded back, unable to wipe the smile off my face.

She grabbed my hand and tugged me from the station. I faltered my step slightly as she led us to Aubrey's car. The blonde was in the driver's seat, phone pressed to her ear. Chloe rolled her eyes at my hesitation, opening the back seat and sliding in. I followed suit, leaving a respectable space between us that she promptly ignored, tugging me closer.

"Yeah, I'll tell them," Aubrey spoke into her phone, ending the call. She spun in her seat to look at us. "That was Luke. He says you two are idiots. I agree."

And with that she threw the car into drive. I shook my head, looking back on all of the advice Luke had given me recently. I had a feeling Chloe and I owed Aubrey and Luke a lot more than the two would ever let on. A couple rounds of drinks would probably be a good start.

"You two figured it out, right?" Aubrey questioned after a moment her eyes flicking to look at us in the rearview mirror. Her eyes focused on Chloe. "I mean you actually told her you loved her, right?"

"Aubrey!" Chloe's voice pitched upwards incredulously, "What if I hadn't?"

Aubrey shrugged from behind the wheel. I laughed, lacing Chloe's hand tighter in mine.

"And what about you, hobbit?" Aubrey asked me. I took the name calling as a term of endearment. "You love her too?"

I turned to Chloe, her sky blue eyes were dancing in mirth. Her smile was unnaturally wide.

We still had a lot to discuss. There were misunderstandings to hash out, there were logistics to figure. She would be in Baltimore and I would be in LA. But for now, this was enough. This was more than I could have possibly imagined.

"I do," I replied sincerely. Because there was no in between. I was in love with my best friend and maybe that wasn't as bad of a thing as I had originally thought.

"You better," Chloe whispered to me, a smirk appearing on her lips as her usual confidence seemed to return. I grinned at her, contentedly bringing my lips down to meet hers.

"Oh, get a room," Aubrey's voice lofted into the back seat. I smiled into the kiss, lifting my middle finger in the direction of the front seat.

**A/N: There you have it. Yet another one shot that refused to be written quickly. I hope you all enjoyed it, don't be afraid to leave some love in the box below. I really don't have much else to say right now considering I powered through that past bit and my mind is fried. Thanks for reading and thank you to everyone that took the time to review over the course of the story! Much love, my friends, much love.**


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